Saturday, August 30, 2014

A Cage of Colors

Seated Woman with Bent Knee, 1917
Egon Schiele

I hold myself in abeyance
my stories strewn upon walls 
by fingernails too porous for contemplation,
in streams of colors from an unseen palette.

As I watch,
 the stories shift.
Patterns emerge in blues and greens
within the seams left there 
by some carpenter or other,
a master at the construction
of love's fairy tales.
They always seem to find the you
I keep locked inside,
the you I wanted to hold with me,
the you that fled
my cage of colors.

I hold myself in abeyance
my stories strewn upon walls,
upon the walls,
upon the w
upon the


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

Posted for Poets United.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

The Language of Trees

wikimedia commons
Mariusz Oleszkiewicz

there is a place i go sometimes 

where the trees have woven their branches

into the length of my spine

their leaves cushioning joints

creaking with age.

and from it

i found a language we share

based on the silent wishes of the heart

unspoken for so long

that they get lost in the neural determinants of bone and sinew.

and sometimes

when i am silent long enough

i wake to find their roots

gently cradling my legs

enrapt, like lovers


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

posted for Poets United 

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Sand Stories

wikimedia commons

"Mikrofossils hg" by Hannes Grobe 20:52, 12 November 2006 (UTC), Alfred Wegener Institute for Polar and Marine Research, Bremerhaven, Germany - 

sand whispers in a secret language

speaking its tales of love lost on beds of brine 

tangled in kelp webs

tended by spiders in the dark.

my toes find purchase 

in the last bits

of summer

pulling it toward me

as grubs push toward the surface seeking.

i place my ear over them

 listening to stories

i used to know in my sleep

as salt tips between us

a concave bed 

of passing.

copyright all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

posted for Poets United

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

I Find A Beginning

wikimedia commons
a hint of the next day
Kenny Louie, Vancouver, Canada

grasses whisper through
fog's fingers 
into solace 
at my feet,
a seed at a time,
reminding me that 
even in the end
i find a beginning.

I am at music camp out in Marin County where the grasses line the hillsides in brown.  I was walking the other day and listening to the grasses whisper in the breeze of the early evening--it is amazingly quiet out there. 

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014