Monday, July 16, 2007

The Season Poems

These are some more that I wrote back then.. all on seasons..


And I believe you when you tell me
this is spring.
And I see the birth of greenness
in the trees.
But why does the frost still come
and why do my eyes still close
when the light gets too bright?


the bananas
in the frayed wicker basket
and blacken
in summer's brutal sun.

Autumn # 1

if a violin ever had the heart to weep for november,
her tears would be dying autumn leaves.
not worth holding on to,
nurturing or protecting.
only worth condemning,
crumbling to dust,
feeling the death of a season
in your own bare hands.

autumn # 2

autumn is so like death
all ash and dust
so old
like a book in some forgotten library
i never asked to visit.
i never wanted to see you
dead, dying
just to see your crumbling hands
the way they were


it is said that
god has a beard
so white
so long
so dreaded
as to be compared to winter.

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