Mourning Before Dawn

fear has a habit of
waking the sleeping dog
who lays whimpering
with legs engaged in motion

the sand of yesterday's
beach walk
lingers in your eyes and ears
like a salt

this is what we have come to
taking turns pacing
the soil in this Eden

of our own creation
like foolish miniature gods
going through the motions,
manufacturing a destiny

written in stone
before we were ever plucked
out of the cosmos
and our possiblity existed

in an unreleased egg.

I forgot to think what it
means to jump the track
and drive through an open field
still asleep, undisturbed

clearing throat
unable to consider anything
but the inevitability of spring.

ksaint

Poem After Paintings

watermelon rind sunset
gives way to the stench of a
night gone bad before
the last ray of sun
punches out for the day

like a dog-tired man
in faded blue jeans
stained and with a scent
all his own

besides, she won't notice
if he turns away
when she reaches the door
like a nun at a window

of stained glass
this night is a relief
this day was a catastrophe
we throw barbed wire

across the table
daring each other to bleed
what was sanity
pools like spilt milk

under the stars
welcome me
I am bettter
in darkness.

ksaint

Well that's it!

Congratulations to Mary and the others who completed their 28 poems! The month is the shortest month of the year and has gone by accordingly, but has also dragged on agonizingly with the dark and the cold and the briefest glimpses of spring. Writing poetry each day has been a challenge, but hopefully has provided everyone with time for reflection.

I myself finished only approximately half of the month's poems so will not be joining those in the winner's circle.

Congratulations again to those who finished! See everyone next year!

A Quiet Revelation

everything I say
i've learned about living,
you already know
you've already heard
my words are like wallpaper
my words are like gray cement floors
you don't even meet my eyes with yours
you are onto another face or place
move your body to another space

yesterday driving down
open country roads
with the radio off and only hearing
my own head
I knew I could tell you what I know,
knew I could say the words with
all my heart behind them
knew you would still give me that blank stare
knew that to really know
you have to lay yourself open
even when it hurts too much to see.

ksaint

#28 Mary 2009

Carved

Words fly
Landing nowhere
Blank slate

Hearts cry
Sweet stare
Readily wait

Poets die
Lovers share
Timeless fate

#27 Mary 2009

Another Haiku

Ambiguity
Creates monsters of the mind
Discovering life

Coming Home

there is much to be said about coming home
after a long time away from the big, old empty house
that seems to groan "I missed you"
as you cross the threshold, road-weary,
dragging suitcases up the stairs

the cats are dancing at your feet
you throw open windows to clear the air
birds begin to mysteriously gather on the rail
somehow noting the movement of your
figure crossing the room to fetch a cip of tea,
to just sit and take notice,
the delicious pleasure of the familiar.

ksaint