You delight the nose with evocative
Promise of stringy cheese, pepperoni
And tomato sauce warm. Each piece
Contested over, grabbed, hungered over
...
Emily, your words breathe fire.
From simple words to grand designs-
Heaven drops, sweet nectar.
I propose a promise
...
I never had a mother
Who read “Hello Moon”
Fifty-seven times before
Tossing it behind the refrigerator
...
My mother keeps a poem
That I wrote when I was
More than a child, but
Not yet a Woman.
...
I work the books
As if knowing the
Words could somehow
Translate into
...
I don't have much
That I can claim-
Just an old brush
With half the bristles gone,
...
Six minutes until the turn of the clock.
Five minutes until I must get up.
Four minutes to muse and delight myself.
Three minutes to ponder the nature of self-
...
Honor is a pretty thing,
Bright and shined
Yet easily lost, not soon
Regained.
...
You Come Too
I'm going to write a poem now, a little thing-
Not much to it. A line, a verse, a meter
...
Who knows what's is in
A poet's heart-it could be
Rainbows and candy apples
Ferris wheels or Topsy Turvys
...
I saw a leaf fall today
Burnt orange oak
Drifting down alone -
All its fellows
...
That a child mixed a broken breed
Purposely denied her own fault
In it. I did not cry wolf out to My
Lagging defenders, nor know that
...
I watch as a slim
Young man, dressed in
Tweeds and patches on the
Elbows, squats down with a handful of
...
Writing is the journey.)
Ode To Pizza
You delight the nose with evocative
Promise of stringy cheese, pepperoni
And tomato sauce warm. Each piece
Contested over, grabbed, hungered over
Until sated, the hungry hordes retreat
To sofas soft and stretch out feet first.
Til' Breakfast time, tomorrow.
Some people are never happy unless they are complaining about something. Makes me wonder if they have some kind of cult somewhere that we don't know about. Great words, Charlotte. Very easy for me to relate to. Poetry as a comfortable chair. You are in my friends list.