09-06-2010, 09:40 AM
(The Window of Imagination)
A Season is coming to a close
the end of a time clocking hours
where I gazed out at a beautiful expanse
and let my imagination roam free
to just be and compose poetry.
Here came the sun in
to bite my neck
and drink my blood…
there came the dragonfly
the cricket and moth
and the merry hummingbird
to lift my spirit
and make me fly.
Perfectly centered is the
lone little tree
who gave her leaves
last autumn
in great beauty
dancing her dance
with her one last
red leaf.
Out in the field
I was the Scarecrow
abandoned, fragmented
stuck on a pole;
whose only friends
were the crows.
And I was the mad poet also
whose poetry was cow dung
and who felt like a
flayed open beet
in the cold, cold field
who lay bleeding
in the snow.
Over beyond the trees
was the harvest moon
and the many sunrises.
Up over the ridge flew
the eagle and hawk,
grace flying high.
And the great many
cloud shapes created
wonder in the sky.
I shall miss my muse…
this computer terminal
and reception desk
that was never my
chain and shackles
because of that great window
and the window of my mind.
© 9/3/2010
A Season is coming to a close
the end of a time clocking hours
where I gazed out at a beautiful expanse
and let my imagination roam free
to just be and compose poetry.
Here came the sun in
to bite my neck
and drink my blood…
there came the dragonfly
the cricket and moth
and the merry hummingbird
to lift my spirit
and make me fly.
Perfectly centered is the
lone little tree
who gave her leaves
last autumn
in great beauty
dancing her dance
with her one last
red leaf.
Out in the field
I was the Scarecrow
abandoned, fragmented
stuck on a pole;
whose only friends
were the crows.
And I was the mad poet also
whose poetry was cow dung
and who felt like a
flayed open beet
in the cold, cold field
who lay bleeding
in the snow.
Over beyond the trees
was the harvest moon
and the many sunrises.
Up over the ridge flew
the eagle and hawk,
grace flying high.
And the great many
cloud shapes created
wonder in the sky.
I shall miss my muse…
this computer terminal
and reception desk
that was never my
chain and shackles
because of that great window
and the window of my mind.
© 9/3/2010
Bianca


