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August Poems 2012

8/4/2012

16 Comments

 
Poems to share from the Pente Poets.
16 Comments

July Poems

7/25/2012

7 Comments

 
Poems to share from the Pente Poets.
7 Comments

June Poem - Lyn

6/27/2012

3 Comments

 
 

 

Self-heal

Here’s the lichened gate, pale as willow,

and that bare tree, limbs jutting skyward.

Was it here, washed and still

the meadow beckoned:  betony, eyebright, self-heal?

Now even sound has altered.  Oak leaves shifting.

Birdsong unease.  The lane darker, deeper.

Still we seek comfort in small things:

stonecrop, speedwell to send us on our way.

We forget how quickly light changes everything,

how nothing stays the same.

            Lyn Browne

            Gorselands, June 2012

3 Comments

Virtual Meeting May 2012   Poem #3

5/24/2012

6 Comments

 
TEN YEARS IS NOT SO LONG                                     

You have not changed.
And winds that bore you from me
like sails of neon men-of-war, full-thrust
against past tides of cities, lit with efflorescent lens
of dew and myriads of time-shined spores
have kept you -
I, the wind-maker.

You have not changed.
And I, the firefly and moth 
of constant dreams and surging sands,these fluxing tides 
of shifting in the glow of ancient keeps, built high 
on wave-strewn coastlines, gusting with the banshee scream
have kept you -
I, the wind maker.

You have not changed.
And clouds that bore you in me
light as dusk on distant forms of stream-swept jade
sweeping past sweet banks on polished sleds of glass
fresh-cut from Chartres’ ancient rose
have kept you -
I, the born-on-wind.

You have not changed.
And youthful blooms of forest depths
lie swimming in the galaxies of starfish, lighting with their fires
the phoenix of never-ashing keep, fanned high 
by winds that bore you to me
sails that kept you -
You, the wind-rider.

Brad Drew © 1976 London   

6 Comments

 Virtual Meeting  May 2012   Poem #2

5/21/2012

4 Comments

 
Balancing act

We step across wide water,
taking our time.  Breathing:
it’s taken most of our life.
You shout and I can’t look back.

Water dark as guinness –
what made us think we could risk it?

Out here in the middle
the river fizzes faster.
Too late to turn back.
Green rocks now,
lank weed stranded,
every one a slippery stretch
and the far bank receding.

Alone together, balancing,
too far apart to clasp.

Lyn Browne

4 Comments

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