maid a meadowsweet
chickory one bee blue sailor
wild carrots top spot
gray lazy garden
summer what of what time was
ruff an amethyst
one boot’s sedum green
fountaineer a sundialer
old barn triangle
Berr’s 3Rs
not to rent a horse
one time bran new on the loose
from a barefoot smith
hay there shadow blue
knott’d to a splint’d wood
bells on a burro
lean poles limp o’er sticks
pokers two tongs roomers queue
shares in a barrow
Wag Old
gully walkers we
what time no trees chickadee’d
very brown creepers
eyed forget it now
too tangl’d wee stumblings
knot to messquito
my shoe no yours is
that mine where is won’t fit through
‘Spot…he’s digging pits…’
Switch Way A Vest
iron carriage frocks
hand held fold a steamer trunk
we’ll take a canteen
hang it a fence post
when the wires are surmount
nor a smith busy
a blue cavalcade
thunder rolling on the plains
Bibi, ‘…no kindlin’…’
Some Bliss.
Kettledrums, A Poet Returns
Sunlight can warm me through car windows
despite the cold air outside. A bite;
a harsh frost-kiss that nips my toes.
Duvet, keep him clement tonight.
If you take any deeper breaths,
my arm I’m sure is swallowed.
Soft chest beats against my arm where It rests. Rest;
your restful now, not like my restless, heart has mellowed.
Hated guilt as well I lay with now,
as pride keeps my eyes fixed above.
But naive and foolish heart, tell me how,
I’d think it strange one girl, two men might love.
To use the word triangular is cold,
there is nothing geometric in this mess.
Yet hideous ‘love triangle’ here is told;
At least bare flesh forgets, on my hand pressed.
Great men are said to lose greatness in this,
I am not great and therefore trouble’s only gained.
Still, remembering you remembers me some bliss;
through fractured, sleepless hours…
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ayaladn 