Ian Keenan


Green - Poem by Ian Keenan

Elvis is the clock face
by my bed,
near the leaf glazed and sculpted
by my son’s
making years ago.

I love green,
old statuettes looking somewhat Dutch and droll,
like my parents,

and the green pepper shaker and
hair brush relics
of my first home,

bits of families,
joined only by memory
and my heart’s yearning.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem


Comments about Green by Ian Keenan

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags


Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 5, 2015



[Report Error]