Diana Rosser

Diana Rosser Poems

81. Childhood Slaughtered 3/25/2014
82. It Is Enough 4/9/2014
83. On The Road Again 4/22/2014
84. First Thoughts On Seeing Birds Over Copacabana 4/27/2014
85. Such Wondrous Things Are These 5/5/2014
86. Bare Foot Driving Days 5/27/2014
87. Utenzi Wa Kwanza 6/2/2014
88. Fugu 2/15/2014
89. The Elephant In The Refrigerator 7/31/2014
90. The Undying Light 8/19/2014
91. The Morning Sky 10/17/2014
92. Half A Chance 11/18/2014
93. Hush Now 3/10/2015
94. Soft Wind 5/26/2015
95. I Have Buried Her In Hadaba 7/5/2015
96. I Have Been Home 11/18/2015
97. The Silent Wood 12/9/2015
98. I Cannot Recall The First Drop Of Rain 9/25/2016
99. Golden 4/4/2017
100. Time 5/19/2017
101. Easter 3/31/2016
102. May You Never Know 9/8/2017
103. Winter Malaise 2/3/2018
104. Dazzling Song 2/20/2018
105. A World Of Words 9/27/2014
106. My Father Is Dead 12/13/2014
107. Frosty Morning - Triolet 12/7/2012
108. Black Hounds Howl 12/7/2012
109. I Choose Happiness 12/24/2013
110. Working Cats 4/21/2013
111. Hope 7/10/2012
112. Patient Death 4/7/2012
113. Winter Tanka 12/30/2013
114. Your Beating Heart 7/12/2014
115. He Has Gone 9/26/2014
116. Give Me A Drink 7/28/2014
117. Gone 2/21/2014
118. Crocuses 3/29/2016
119. So As Dreams 6/16/2014
120. In This Moment 4/17/2016

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Best Poem of Diana Rosser

The Shady Path

If your reckless mind unobserved
wanders into the deep dark sea,
then swim towards the lapping shore
and walk towards the tall oak tree
at the start of the ancient wood.

It's there you will find the shady path
you walked that English summer's day
when the sun shone through high above
and sprinkled stars along the way
lighting the ground beneath your feet.

Remember, you were not alone,
walking beside you was the one
who showed that the shady path
was an adventure that begun
at the start of the ancient wood.

Read the full of The Shady Path

The Garden

Weary and downcast, carrying the many heavy cares of the day I enter the garden.
Picking up the patient rake, with steady rhythm I gather the last of withered autumn into damp brown pools.
Green grass glistens and parts.
There is life’s new shoots poking through beneath the pear tree.
With easing breath and straightening limbs I bear the fallen leaves to the compost heap.
A gossamer spider’s web stretches, perfect and taut against the wooden frame.
The resident robin contemplates my mo

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