these old poems

Reading these old poems as they age
these poems I had dug out of

pressed orchids and fungi
winter memories of spring
ashes of summers past
the song of snow hissing
the hollow melody of moon
the forgiveness of sand
and so much else
that bleeds or sings
or glistens in an eye

Reading these old poems
resurrects the prayers
that haunted dreams
iterated by desiccated lips
hurled like clicking chicken bones
at the stumbling feet of the dinosaur

(Visited 47 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in aging, Poetry, thoughts below ground and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *