Diana Rosser Poems

The old tree weeps, its branches low
bend over a path, winding slow
through tilting, toppling, broken stones
fading remains of treasured bones
...

Without
beginning or end
the journey walks
with familiar boots
...

He left
gradually
like water
evaporating
...

Beneath a meteor shower in cold November
wrapped in a duvet on an old lounging chair,

stretched out, watching streaks of flaming embers
...

Enchanted web woven by silken touch,
a crowd of tangled dreams to filter through;
Visions of raw enmeshed sight too much,
torment by night before morning anew.
...

Deleterious dagger
crafted in Qajar.

Medial ridge running through
...

Composition of light slowly squeezed
Acrylic dabbed and daubed
New image gradually emerging
Vision of raging tempest unfurling
...

Oh sweet repose,
thou doth call me.
Quiet I shall come and rest easy
on the silken canvas
...

Grey
winding
lonesome road
laments beyond
...

A spiders web breaks the ocean of dark,
Alexandria‘s matrix, gold under
the stretching wing.
My eyes catch with wonder
...