Well, I found a woman stronger than anyone I know At last…my love has come along. My lonely days are over ’cause you make me feel so brand new and I want to spend my life with you I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you’re…
Chosen
I came poor of birth I was born blue into childhood of a childhood cut from my parents’ impulses gifted second-hand a copy of a 163rd reprinting Baby and Child Care a gift of new and old it was a time when being conceived out of marriage being born was the end not a beginning…
Wormwood
∞ Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo). Today’s prompt: Day Twenty-Eight: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a concrete poem.” 30 Poems in 30 Days All text and photography © Dale Schierbeck …. more of my original…
Bashert
She sat there in a suit, my bashert let me introduce myself with resume and cover Time was uncovered, her life I did discover my life, my career, a season, a cycle A gym I shared, I yearn, I spin, I cycle I tilted, I lilted, with heartbeats may I join you too My boy,…
Lumber Dog
He winds through the wind broken woods a wagging wanderer, leaping, like lumberjack in a Canadian tuxedo splitting the space on all fours legs of two-by-fours, kilned hard, He searches the timber tall and fallen like a beaver doing dam work skids out a snag like a tracked Cat blowing diesel with turning haunches, hauls…
Aisling for the Land
My love — this land was made for you — and me for our family — trees and our roots all its seasons turn — leaves turn, turn through strong winds — blowing lonely feelings small — I will lay me down, with toes worn numb — down by the sea, hug them, squeeze them…
Hard Boiled Boy
He ran down the now rickety staircase …..like a herd of cast Remington wild broncos His footsteps loudly entered the room …..like they had been forged by a blacksmith They rang through the bruised halls …..like they Montreal students banging pots and pans Came into the room with a banging thud …..like a wrecking ball…
The Blasted
Blasted past ripped from the news paper tattered by the birds with hard beaks beating into a pulp fiction stories of lovers entwined rings of a stump torn apart pages pressed tightly together by wind and wet rain blurs words worm worn pathways eaten weather weakens crumbles remnants of the Blasted. ∞ Submitted…
Sense of Time
Lick, lick — lick at the wind with taste buds grasp a sailing tail Wink, wink — wink at the tapestry with eyes pull through the fading threads Sniff, sniff — sniff at the sands with nose count every digit and step Ring, ring — ring at the bell with ears grip the fading waves…
We Reflect
We walk the rural path from a one-room school …..rubber boots scrape the gravel We stand, flip 100 burgers in a line, for lunch time, …..sneakers smell slick, still, with rancid fat We sit, alone, with a Lady, her Ermine, through plexiglass, she looks away …..hikers, swell hot, four years bald We reflect time in…
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