Lynn W. Petty Poems

How important I feel, indomitable, invincible.
Then, I read they found a nebula; a white illuminate;
An interfuse of gaseous light, hung from the galactic ceiling.
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When I was just a child
I knelt and prayed, without a question,
To a god as distant and, as meaningless
To me as any far-off star.
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Above the cliffside looking down its sheer,
The sea was undulating molten jade.
Foaming billows broke white across its face,
As drifted snow upon a vein of turquoise green.
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Her wind-combed hair surrounds her face
With tumultuous, unrestrained swirls
Of cascading molten midnight for its shade.
Her eyes, deep and dark,
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Have you seen her hands, gnarled and crooked with age;
Translucent skin accenting blue-black veins,
Contrasting tendon cords of white through spots
Of brown upon the backs of her old hands?
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It has been said; poetry is nothing more than placing
The proper word in its proper place.
How simply stated for the effort of a single composition!
Beneath the primeval of our subconscious mind
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Oh, Muse, release the locks that dam the flow
Of verse and song from my distended heart.
Find passion for my soul that I have lost poetic speech.
Let flow the streams of ardency to seek their source
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Who is this sprite, this nymph that haunts my inner self,
That dances on the fringes of the shadows of my mind?
What spirit penetrates beneath the surface of my being,
That makes me pledge my heart, implore her love
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It was years ago when I first met her.
She was the siren of Laguna Beach,
Well endowed, a body to be envied
By all women and, licentiously desired by all men.
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