Martley Drive Poem by Harry White

Martley Drive

Rating: 4.5


I love the morning sounds this house affords:
The stove-hiss of coffee, the percolation
Of radio, bedroom cadences,
Birdsong. Wakening words.

The low, warm burble of American,
And sunlight streaming through the hall
Soften the taunts and silences
Of last night's withdrawal.


Ghost-faced and grey, the laptop screen in my room
Readies itself for more of the same:
The iron rod of reproof,
Or some fresh dalliance. Or blame.


A humming bird, tremulous, visitant, on the deck
Distracts me from all this when I step out
To inhale the Canadian air.
Then it's no longer there.

Monday, November 24, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love and pain
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kim Barney 15 December 2014

Nice poem. You must have more, there inside your head, waiting to be written. Please let them come out.

1 0 Reply
Miken Newman 24 November 2014

Home is home.... good word choice. miken

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