NORMAN ROSS Poems

The city's trees are shriveled, bleak, and bare.
The matted clouds are gray with threatened snow.
The people scurry home in bristling cold
with finger-tips and toes like beaded ice.
...

I lay upon a fallow slab, like stone;
My eyes read Death within the white-walled room;
The wild mind whirled, in eddies to despoil
The twisted nerves, the blood, the sallow bone.
...

There is some magic binds me to your eyes-
Witchcraft, born of Sorcery and Guile;
And yet they look so innocent all the while,
A necromantic, star-bright blue surprise!
...

Love:
My love is as the love of Heroes
For I have conquered the World
And moved the Stone of Sisyphus
...

I walk the streets of foreign soil alone—
And look for you in every street café`;
Lovers’ laughter bubbles everywhere
Like pink champagne. And flowers, multi-hued,
...

I
Recall love, Recall hate,
Recall palm trees, pine trees, oaks.
Recall fate.
...

I saw the sun set, a jelly omelet in a frying pan sky.
I saw a house, too, with brown shingles
Sprawling like tobacco leaves
Over the frame.
...

They lie who say the stalks of corn are sleeping-
Their midsummer greenness more than
memories
In the wild euphoria of human weeping.
...