Tag Archives: summer

Ode to Winter, Ode to Summer

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By the west end of the Lake
is a bittersweet orange
it is the tang and oder of sorrow
and the sweet citrus skin of newness.
I bring these things from the lake,
the west end of the lake in june
so the waters rise like a slow baloon
and the winter crawls out from its snowy cocoon
and the oranges flower at noon.
by the west end of the land
she spies you
and her hands grasp at her middle
as a sharp longing.
to feel the same as a child
and yet to never be forever young
it scraped at the bone marrow of her.

You left a little bruise on her cheek
and she smiles.

It is like the soft rain beating against a drum
sprinkling her soft berry stained lips.
the oranges are all tied to her bedside
and the smell is like sorrow
covered with the feathers of a crow
and all of the feelings
that were once new.
by the west end of the Lake
is a bittersweet orange.
it is the tang and oder of sorrow
and the sweet citrus smell
of newness:
to begin again on the same road
is to never end,
it is to know the skies
as well as you do your brother
with the faint rustle of trees
in the fall,
on a morning
oh so aching
as a welcome
haunting
call.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

Stream of Consciousness #11

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Stream of Consciousness #11

like this was the last straw already

(we leave for home on Thursday)

and those people who have never felt the sand dunes think that the river must be huge

they are so wrong, i have seen the bridges,

I have seen how they break. Your life is not as easy as I thought

and the suitors do not love you, but they conspire.

your father gloats with pride.

envy me!

he says

but doesn’t know his daughter’s plight.

like the stones that are on the beach, the sights would reach the northern hemisphere

imagine the northern lights

Borealis

as the wind rocketed sand onto the mist filled sky.

what would you do about it, girl, my love has entered the house and he is not happy

we can all agree that you do not love me,

so I can go my separate ways.

I love the sound of stone in autumn, or just the sound of anything

like the name you gave me,

Fedora

love wasn’t that easy for me with a name like Fedora

I was splattered with mustard on the first day of school,

they threw old musty hats in my face and I glared at them and shouted

the busy cowards didn’t know what they were missing,

what they had been missing out on, oh those stupid little cowards,

how could they ever understand?

that’s all behind me now.

I sit under the rain post and become naked

and run through ten valleys stripped of corn and stripped of forest

and I bask and bathe and I don’t care.

Fedora, Fedora, sing me a song, they all say

yes, this is the day,

and I know you see me as the queen of the land

the empress of all being:

I’d┬álike to see you try this on a hot summer in July.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

Photo Copyright 2013 by Golden Star Poetry

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