Christine K. Trease Poems

Monotone screaming
Psychotic blue
Raging epicenter you
Ride the deep current
...

Lovely garden of life now overgrown with woody thorn bushes,
my mortal breath means nothing to you now.
You realized me when I was young and renounce me in my aging.
Overtaken by fields of goodbyes, the sustenance of my life
...

When life gets me down and I'm feeling so low,
I remember all of the while
that although the going gets tough for the weak,
Life's Just A Short Little Mile.
...

I dream of shelves of ratty books,
their covers tattered, torn and worn;
a multitude of waiting pages,
innumerable for each child born.
...

Fingertips of daylilies
pillared in remorse,
dawn's illusive offerings
hold a steady course.
...

You have loved us in spite of our failures, through sorrow, triumphs and tears.
You have cared for us unequivocally through many happy years.
You have stood in the shadows of others, yet we knew your important part.
You have given your best to us always, the gift of a loving heart.
...

At night when the weary seamstress lies down her tired head
upon her own-sewn pillowcase inside her nice warm bed,

each of her sewing items gets a notion of their own.
...

A child that's born on a Monday
holds beauty in sight and mind.
A child that's born on a Tuesday
is graceful, sweet and kind.
...

jeweled diviners, arching palms
scented mulberry potpourri
predicting the future and what lies beyond
things mortal men are unable to see
...