Saiom Shriver Poems

Pain is the clement stone,
the hard seed within soft fruit.
Chip away at it and life is
destroyed. Shine on it with
...

The sun has poured his morn
into waiting cups of corn.
And his orchard plenty spills
out Cornucopia's horn.
...

By his aura have words incendiary
turned into Cinderella cinders.
By his halo has hatred incensed
become sacred fragrant frankincense.
...

The shroud in which he did lie
is now sail for ship of joy.
His tomb's boulder now the
cornerstone of resurrection.
...

How did winter's sad
barren branch
burst into wand of
bloomed blanche?
...

Cut down that tree..
the lumberman cried!
She's so ugly and so slipshod
with her flaky head lost in the sky
...