Michael Shepherd Poems

I don’t cry. Not
floods of tears cry.
The eyes moisten, but,
It’s the rest of it…:
...

So if it makes you feel great,
OK, go ahead -
as long as you're making yourself more attractive
for me, not your next husband...
...

Two sisters separated soon after birth
one dark-haired, one fair, both beautiful, with shining eyes
run towards each other, eagerly, yet shyly, wonderingly,
from the two ends of a bridge
...

A poem should be -

stop right there, chum. You’ve hit
the target in four words.
...

Icarus
has had a bad press
throughout history
as some sort of moral metaphor
...

Gathering rosebuds with my rake;
the wooden tines scraping
over the gravel path
bringing a token of order
...

The sadness that, this afternoon,
pours over me, settles
like a dark cloud, watched
as it descends, inexorably,
...