B. V. Dahlen Poems

Winter creeps into corners,
Filling each crevice
With darkness.
My tombstone days
...

I awake, as the sun
stretches himself
in the morning sky.
...

Tonight again I change.
Donning the mask of sophistication
I stroll those same filthy streets
Now clothed in pseudo-cleanliness.
...

A small room
Fishnet gathers
cobwebs to the ceiling.
Sound vibrates against ear drums
...

Tonight I lay,
A phone cradled in my hand,
A voice so welcomed
Whispered words
...

Just days ago
I noticed that
‘Twas time to mark
The feast day of
...

When I arise
with creaking joints
to drag these limbs
from cozy bed.
...

On a dog legged lane
our cottage stood
behind a twisted fence,
and trellis bearing waxen roses.
...

The tea was strong and black,
with clouds of drifting milk,
that swirled within the heavy mugs
of crockery, as solid
...

She stretches long
On lithe paws
Straining towards summer.
Her haunches shrink from winter
...