Glenn Bagshaw Poems
|161.||On Turning Twenty-One||10/30/2005|
|162.||Lullaby Of A Tired Mother||8/19/2005|
|163.||A Mob Of Yesterdays||10/19/2005|
|164.||She Remembers Him||10/22/2005|
|165.||The No-Light In The Head||10/6/2005|
|166.||Allan Tate At Christmas||10/16/2005|
|167.||Dancing With Words||8/17/2005|
|170.||Famous Lines From Love Poems Made Into Couplets...||8/8/2007|
|171.||Afternoon In Summer||10/28/2005|
Comments about Glenn Bagshaw
Afternoon In Summer
Cloud-popping, blue-raved summer sky
with light stuck out like a tongue:
you're the gorgon's gaze
to a warm, dry earth
charmed almost stone.
For voice the sweeping laugh
of wind's your way.
Even the morning-marvelling birds
are almost crazed in the bright wideness
of your tuned world.
They cry the sun-thrilled call of:
Sky! Sky! Sky!
Wings fling in tree-tipped reach of vaulted runs
sun-dialed in time-
Inches the touch of thrifty night-
and, with thumb smudged in shadows,
snuffs out the light.
We move, like an insolvent, touring band;
and when we go, we're blurred you understand.
We leave the kettle on, TV blaring
drool half the cake, dreary novel wearing
just grasp of space that hands once held before.
Pronounce the sentence. Who'll read anymore?
and then when gone, who'll mention us again?
One summer, three friends sailed quite near to Spain