elysabeth faslund Poems

Crossing the line, on Billboard
Or door, made me want my.44.
An arraignment, or two...
...

From the Light
To the fire...
From the fire
To the Light...
...

Take a bit of Time...
See your Path.
Use a bit of Sight...
Touch the Thorns.
...

A russet-etched crone
Crouches in silhouette,
Clinging to memories
Of cradle-gold hair.
...

Sing soft. Sing loud. It remains so.

If the Lady lifts her hand, does the Beast speak petals...
With hand by her side, does the Beast speak dust...
...

June gloom storm night...
'here we go round the roseys...'
sliding windows' rivulets...
'pockets full of poseys'...
...

In a draped parlor,
The soft Lady
Waits on her brocade
Chair.
...

There's much in the tale
Of a love story here...
Lovely wedding, guests,
And way lots of beer!
...

Oh, would you like to swing on a
Star...
And think you're better off than you
Are...
...

I really hope you do...
Cause there's nothing
Like English ale.
Helluva, hearty brew!
...