Megan Lacey Poems

We’ve come to an Age of Unbelieving
Where all the magic’s gone out of the world
No more do the Good Folk
Dance in the Hollow Hills
...

Midnight whispers, ghosts of the past....
They've been dust for a century yet
Still they last...
Would they live again,
...

I have a tendency to drive too fast.
In a little brown car, my foot pushing the accelerator-
Watching the snow covered fields pass in a blur and geese alighting to look for grain missed by the combines of fall.
I descend from the bluffs and start along the levee road, the backwaters low, there was little rain last summer.
...

I see the line of soldiers marching towards the fence
With all the vim and vigor of men in their prime
Moving on the double quick.
Yet they walk right past me
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Are you real?
I'm afraid that you're the product of my fevered reveries
Though I could never conjure such perfection
In form and nobility of mind.
...

The sky is now its darkest blue
I’ve found all my dreams in you
Take my hand; you needn’t fear the night
...

I spent April up an apple tree
Jeans rolled up, bare feet pink, bark clinging between my toes;
My hair in pigtails, a book resting on my lap.
An Illinois Anne Shirley.
...

I don't ask for happily ever after,
Only for the opportunity to look.
I know that 'Prince Charming'
Is a figment of my overactive imagination.
...

It creeps up, like an old hunter
Stalking about in the flickering shadows of my mind.
Then the hunter moves- multiplies-
Into a thundering, white-tailed mass
...

The drums did beat
The pipes did play
As I sat upon the hill
I watched the fray
...