Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Swing

This photo of item # 1987.17 at the Hunter Museum of American Art was contributed under the team name "The_Mexican_Villains" as part of the Wikipedia Loves Art project in February 2009.
Hunter Museum of American Art
The original photograph on Flickr was taken by kaldari

A bit of rope
hoists dry wood,
an ark to sail through the seasons.

Dry plank kissed with snow,
you sit quietly awaiting the spring
when children will find you
and laughter abounds.
Until then, sit in the silver silence
of dusted snow,
wind caressing your gnarled wood
as you watch over wood pile beneath you.

Dizzying, the canopy of leaves sways above
s toes touch sky
leaving the ground
far below.
Sun glints off leaves
and filters the new breath of spring’s promise
as grubs burrow deeply
confessing dark secrets to succulent earth.

Wood warms to the syrup of summer sun
twisting through shady pine
the still air weighty in  
somnolent afternoon.
Pine needles blanket the scuff
where small feet have
leapt from earth,
trading fear for the promise of freedom .

Cold air bites and nips
as it pulls leaves desultorily
to ground around you.
Days shorten.
Wind sharpens.
Few attempt flight now.

A bit of rope
hoists dry wood,
an ark to sail through the seasons.

Copyright/All rights Reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Painful Storms

Storm bristles in
with tears sliced into silver points.
I wander empty rooms
and collect them
in a jar specially marked,
place them on a shelf
where the sun
can warm their points,
blunting their pain.
I want to say that will be enough,
but loneliness
can create
more jars than I have room,
and the sun shines little
when storms gather.

copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Day's End

Day cools into evening.
Its long tendrils wrap into shadow
as Day lets go its hold,
Withdraws its heat--
Moon awaits her journey yet.
And in this in-between time,
this time I love best,
with its sense of sinking down
toward ground,
of gradual slowing,
I wrap up the remains of my day
and turn on my favorite reading light,
pull open my notebook
and let pencil fly as it must--
until soul has returned to body
and the moon rises.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012

Friday, February 17, 2012

Shakespeare's Bar Fly

Sweetened and tuned
by silvered honey glint
of such tender eye,
by well-meaning scorn
and bitterest herb,
you gall
the unknowing--
the least desirous of us.
Hold fast to your deceit
and play that card again
in a blue smoke bar,
when humor deserts
and the line of truth
is drawn in the sand
by the angel who saves.
It won’t be today
my friend
no, not today.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012 

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

The Carpet of Heaven's Door

artist: Václav Švejcar 
Light of satisfaction


Night beckons
and moon, full of restive temptation
answers fruitfully—

Incline yourself
upon the seal of my soul
and bend my ear
that I may again
hear the gentle murmurings
of earth’s heart
beat in time with my own.

O tender, tender moon
you leave the imprint
of your maidenhood
as you salve
the dry earth
your moon’s blood bestowing.

Sow your seed
in the time of new moon
and yield,
again and again
to the carpet of heaven’s door.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012 

Saturday, February 4, 2012

My Sorrow

Author: Andrzej Korzec
Title: Reflection in the water Technic: Oil on canvas

I hang my sorrow out to dry
with  my sheets,
bending it over the line,
pinning it in place,
hoping it will stay.

It smells of orange blossoms
and rye grass.
I inhale its scent,
and carefully fold it into a little square,
until it is small enough to fit in my breast pocket.
And nestled there,
it finds a home for a while.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012 

Linking today for the Poetry Panty