FOUR FEATHERS PRESS ONLINE EDITION: GRASS LEAVES Send up to three poems on the subject of or at least mentioning the words grass and/or leaves, totaling up to 150 lines in length, in the body of an email message or attached in a Word file to donkingfishercampbell@gmail.com by 11:59 PM PST on January 17th. No PDF's please. Color artwork is also desired. Please send in JPG form. No late submissions accepted. Poets and artists published in Four Feathers Press Online Edition: Grass Leaves will be published online and invited to read at the Saturday Afternoon Poetry Zoom meeting on Saturday, January 25th between 3 and 5 pm PST

Wednesday, January 15, 2025

Dean Okamura


Chasing rhythm in words

 

The best my mind can do is 

     chase a rhythm in the words 

     with meaning I don't grasp. 


Linger in the grass for lyrics that never form, 

     chasing melodies that never come, 

     this upbeat after another, 

     one missing beat embracing the world. 


Where silence settles like mist 

     over a valley, spiraling upward, 

     while winds bend branches 

     into wild patterns wound precious. 


That's all there between my eyes 

     in front of my face, searching 

     the fading edge of twilight. 


Where rhythms move clouds 

     on the horizon. 





grass leaves

 

we look at darkness and we see ourselves 

we sit in silence and hear ourselves 

our lives full of confusion 

when so much is at stake 

can look hopeless 

while planted in darkness 

with overgrown silence 


I thought I heard you once 

breaking the silence 


I thought I tripped over you once 

in a corner of darkness 


someone bumped into me 

told me to look where I'm going 


there are no directions in darkness 

no sirens in silence 


let's get up 

give each other a push 


you know 

forward 


really 

anywhere 


like smiling grass leaves 

reaching for the sun 





The noble desk

 

The noble desk stands in the tall grass. 

Her legs creak after years of service. 


The weather-worn wood has lost its shine. 

She needs repair but stands resolute. 


Student doodles washed away by rain. 

Yet their scribbles remain etched in wood. 


They have forgotten their childhood days. 

But she recalls every one of them. 


After years, the noble desk decays. 

Its memories mix into the earth. 



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