Cynthia Buhain-baello Poems

Can the clay say to the Potter
'This is how You must mold me...'
Or can the jar the say to the water-
'Come here and pour on me.'
...

In heaviness bowed
grass blade held its own treasure
a cool drop of rain
...

Jewelry for sight
diamonds of dew glitter
...

GRATEFUL

G od I thank you for the words
R ealizing You are the Giver
...

The nest is almost dilapidated
And the tree is aging fast,
All in the neighborhood have dated
But mine seem to gather dust.
...

Graying skies of night
usher their performance paid
cricket symphony
...

Itching to fire them loaded guns
Blast vague foes to smithereens
So eager for the blood of everyone
Exploding to bits like never been seen!
...

Like a furious whirlwind turning around
A scattered force carrying debris,
An aimless shot hits from the ground
With no purpose reached definitely.
...

He was a 'windtalker'
Navajo warrior of a secret tongue
Sworn to vows that are stronger
Than blood ties to which we belong
...

Stop the flurried maze of words,
Burdened so in Volume, drowned -
For Substance loses its reward
When naked meanings there are found.
...