Autumn’s
Promise
The promise of Autumn’s
Sweet
Chill
Kiss
Gives rise to energies forgotten
While in the midst of Summer’s
Sloth
Doldrum
Recline
Memories long dormant
Challenge and escape to the surface
Cloying
Aged
Musings
Tears well at relived
Joys and tragedies
Knocking
Calling
Embracing
Let down calloused walls
Allow childlike soul to
Emerge
Refreshed
Renewed
Ken Goree
Showing posts with label cold. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cold. Show all posts
Friday, September 7, 2012
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Unique
Unique
When you touch me I shiver
And it is good.
When you brush my skin so lightly I smile
And it is good.
You look like none other
And it is good.
Joy explodes in my childlike heart when I see you
And it is good.
Your visits are precious, for they are few
And it is good.
You float down from heaven to melt on my eyelids
And it is good.
Ken Goree
It’s about snowflakes :-)
When you touch me I shiver
And it is good.
When you brush my skin so lightly I smile
And it is good.
You look like none other
And it is good.
Joy explodes in my childlike heart when I see you
And it is good.
Your visits are precious, for they are few
And it is good.
You float down from heaven to melt on my eyelids
And it is good.
Ken Goree
It’s about snowflakes :-)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Entombed
Entombed
Strong ancient one
Entombed in your winter
cold bars
Hold you within.
What sin
Traps you in your frigid cell?
What lies beneath
Your dark exterior?
Patience
Spring will come
Bars shatter and fall
You burst forth to majestic freedom.
Ken Goree
On my way home from snow shoeing on Saturday (1-8-11), I noticed a huge basalt cliff. The enormous boulders of dark, wet stone rose up 50 feet beside the road. Thick shining icicles hung vertically along the face of the wall. Row upon row seemed to trap the stone inside, a tomb.
Strong ancient one
Entombed in your winter
cold bars
Hold you within.
What sin
Traps you in your frigid cell?
What lies beneath
Your dark exterior?
Patience
Spring will come
Bars shatter and fall
You burst forth to majestic freedom.
Ken Goree
On my way home from snow shoeing on Saturday (1-8-11), I noticed a huge basalt cliff. The enormous boulders of dark, wet stone rose up 50 feet beside the road. Thick shining icicles hung vertically along the face of the wall. Row upon row seemed to trap the stone inside, a tomb.
Monday, January 3, 2011
My experiences that gave rise to "Goose Food"
The poem Goose Food is grounded in my memories of time spent in Eastern
Washington in the late fall and through the winter. The air is dry
and cold, and the bare surface of the highway is the only thing not blanketed in a hard white crust that will linger until spring. The harsh Kittitas Valley wind whips snow in a whirling, twisting dance, like ghost snakes writhing over the aged and worn grey surface of the pavement.
“V” after “V” of Geese in formation drop into fields until there are thousands gathered together. A few stand guard as the flock talk, quarrel and grumble among themselves, while working to wrest sustenance from the frozen soil.
Washington in the late fall and through the winter. The air is dry
and cold, and the bare surface of the highway is the only thing not blanketed in a hard white crust that will linger until spring. The harsh Kittitas Valley wind whips snow in a whirling, twisting dance, like ghost snakes writhing over the aged and worn grey surface of the pavement.
“V” after “V” of Geese in formation drop into fields until there are thousands gathered together. A few stand guard as the flock talk, quarrel and grumble among themselves, while working to wrest sustenance from the frozen soil.
The Third
Goose Food
While driving through the country
I passed a snowy field
What was in the summer bountiful
Has given up its yield.
A thousand black shapes on there
I see them from a far
Grow in size, grey, black and white
As I approach them in my car.
They prod and poke with long neck and beak
For what is left behind
For the farmer, feeding geese in winter
Was not on his mind.
A seed or two they pull from earth
Some juicy bugs there, too
The frozen earth so hard gives up
A worm they'd not eschew.
I sip from my warm coffee cup
And those geese I watch
I aim my brand new camera
And freeze them with one shot.
I appreciate their beauty
As they seek out frozen stem
Their courageous struggle awes me
But I wouldn't want to be them.
K.G.
Brandon Myuse
While driving through the country
I passed a snowy field
What was in the summer bountiful
Has given up its yield.
A thousand black shapes on there
I see them from a far
Grow in size, grey, black and white
As I approach them in my car.
They prod and poke with long neck and beak
For what is left behind
For the farmer, feeding geese in winter
Was not on his mind.
A seed or two they pull from earth
Some juicy bugs there, too
The frozen earth so hard gives up
A worm they'd not eschew.
I sip from my warm coffee cup
And those geese I watch
I aim my brand new camera
And freeze them with one shot.
I appreciate their beauty
As they seek out frozen stem
Their courageous struggle awes me
But I wouldn't want to be them.
K.G.
Brandon Myuse
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)