Today's to-do list— But the wild mustard, so yellow, This sunny chair, warm.
Tag: poetry
A Man Who Reads Poetry
she says, is my kinda macho -- eyes coursing the bellowing plains of the page like Sythian horsemen, and when I lean to be near, his voice growls wild honey, clenching thought sure as fists on rope, pommel or rose, a wrestler with joy, I’d plunge the tunnels down to hell, for those hands to … Continue reading A Man Who Reads Poetry
On the Trail to Hidden Lake from Logan Pass Visitor’s Center
Under an empty sky and blank rock, a thousand little fragments trudge along a plank path to appreciate what is hidden. Are there billy goat trolls hidden under this bridge to beyond? Something always is hidden beneath or beyond belief. Under the hollow path is nothing but shadow and the clomp of a thousand fragments … Continue reading On the Trail to Hidden Lake from Logan Pass Visitor’s Center
Maria Joseph and the Hills Like. . . .
Del Darlson leaned on his shovel and watched the muddied water burble across the dry alfalfa field. What it murmured he could not say, but he heard the unmistakable laughter of a certain young woman. Above him the clouds unraveled and reraveled the shape of her face, her long slender arms, an angle of her … Continue reading Maria Joseph and the Hills Like. . . .
Of All the Ways
Of all the ways to open— blackbird on post—oke-n-leedr red winging away
Even In Darkness
The link below resurrects the writelee.com post most appreciated by the readers. Even In Darkness
Waiting for Fireworks at Antietam National Battlefield
The orchestra begins “O, say can you see,” and in the dusk those boys rise again from the tree line and form in rows sung into them with “Mine eyes have seen the glory.” Ranks waver and writhe like banners over rise and hollow. And boys begin to fall. Gaps appear and close, a fatal … Continue reading Waiting for Fireworks at Antietam National Battlefield
Ruthless Is the Gardener
Today my chore— the damned invader weeds! But o, mustard's yellow?! I know it's a stretch, but think of it this way: a gardener deciding not to pull the yellow mustard sets a precedent. A lovely one but one that could be unpopular?
Cataract Surgery
I begin to see with new eyes— the scales have been scraped away, all the yellow, all the scum— how bright the grass with new eyes— a greener shade of winter yellow— with the scales scoured away. How brilliant Kathy’s eyes their lively green unochered through my new unblistered lens. I begin to see with … Continue reading Cataract Surgery
Drabble Loads Writelee.com!
The writelee.com poem "Depth of the Mirror" is currently appearing on the wordpress e-zine See it at: Depth of the Mirror on The Drabble .
Home of Have, Poems by Lee Robison 