Poetry Blogs (window)
Low early autumn sun
a lone long strand of spider silk
stretched across the window glass
above a tiny downy feather like a snowflake
shivering in the breeze
Wednesday 5th September 2018 9:53 am
This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.
Time and Windows
If the past is a tattered old book,
then why am I a ghost
at my mother's window,
so clear I can sense her mystery,
and her brown eyes, so alive?
Look, I can fly to her
through the high windows
of my memory
until I'm so close that she disappears,
and the curtain flutters silently.
Friday 29th December 2017 10:44 am
times and places and being....
always just out of reach...
glimpses flitting between lenses...
shimmering a way off
in the play of the light in your eyes...
from the window to my soul...
Monday 12th September 2016 10:07 am
I was looking at that window thinking
there's someone I love in there -
and she was
I looked at your window later
waving a thousand times -
and yet couldn't stop
I'm looking at that dim lit window
as cold rain struggles to freeze white -
And in there are my mad life's beauties,
as I lean against the first of January's nights
Tuesday 17th January 2012 9:49 pm