The Unseatable Bench
Avery notes:
grass screams when it is cut
tasting the blade before
being mowed down
my eyes hear your cries
for help
Meg declares:
a smell
cannot be a scream
it is but a breath
of oxygen
being released
Welcome to the pearly gates of stupidity
take a rest on the unseatable bench
as Annabell tosses herself down the stairs
screaming: Annabell is leaving
the book writes itself
because the rusty gate
leads to hell
her pen bleeds these words:
the grass screams to grow
but will be cut still
another day
From my Gentle Grasp poetry collection published by Kelsay Books
Auburn Leaves
the storm just passed, but your leaves
are still inside out, flipped over
showing your veiny muted under-side
not your smooth flossy top-side
your moisture response is to soften your stems
letting wind flip-flop your leaves around in the rain
reminding me of my hair's reaction to moisture
growing my strands from flat to frizzy, dancing
twisting and turning like a baby's mobile
caught in the wind's cross-current
created by the impending storm
short sprays twirling with dancer’s grace
off my head, a crown haloing in the breeze
each strand drifting away from its
follicle fix, slackened from a prone position
floating and flexing and moving about freely
abracadabra: from one step to the other
still the same but different, looser, liberated
until the dewiness dries and you’re up-righted
by a new kaleidoscoping hairstyle
Leaf Life
In
spring summer
leaf has chlorophyll
making it green
as days shorten
chlorophyll travels from leaf
to the tree trunk roots
letting other protective pigments shine through
xanthophyll delivers yellow hue
carotenoid provides orange tint
anthocyanin yields red blush
autumn progress leaf dies
tree prepares for winter
foliole morphs burnt brown
all needed
is gentle breeze
swaying back and forth
to break loose
and drop
down
b
y
e
f
a
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