tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9391909988327293942024-03-14T01:28:20.578-07:00burnt offeringsPoems by me..... the sometimes poetstrausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-31511408881951408432007-07-23T19:18:00.000-07:002007-07-24T00:27:26.280-07:00Haiku - comfort<div align="center">hard ground becomes</div><div align="center">muddy transformation</div><div align="center">as rain seeps</div><br /><div align="center">slow drip relief</div><div align="center">soothes weary limbs</div><div align="center">midsummer rain</div><br /><div align="center">gently swayed</div><div align="center">in the birdhouse</div><div align="center">wind gust lullaby</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">© Strauss</div><div align="center">23rd July 2007</div>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-35057555461518960282007-07-03T11:49:00.000-07:002007-07-03T12:05:48.346-07:00Haiku - shadows and light<div align="center">nowhere to run<br />dark shadow overhead<br />little field mouse</div><div align="center"><br />cicadas serenade<br />moths on naked bulbs<br />drawn to light</div><div align="left"><br />© Strauss<br />2nd July 2007</div><div align="left"></div><div align="center">dappling leaves<br />filter midday sun<br />under the elm</div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">© Strauss</div><div align="left">3rd July 2007</div>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-27459165067704418862007-06-22T16:25:00.000-07:002007-06-22T10:03:29.328-07:00Haiku - on a windy day<div align="center">whispering sisters</div><div align="center">share secrets in the breeze</div><div align="center">poplars sway</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">© Strauss</div><div align="left">22 June 2007</div>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-36473313417254576052007-06-05T01:58:00.000-07:002007-07-08T21:32:02.220-07:00The FallThe dramatic heights of loveliness,<br />Caressed the soft waves of her hair;<br />A potent intoxication<br />Suspended reality in the air.<br /><br />An hypnotic high; so mellow,<br />Burnished through enamored eyes.<br />Mournful tones though, now resound,<br />In guttural wrenching cries.<br /><br />The ebb and flow of a peculiar fate;<br />A world turned on its axis once more.<br />Those fruits, once thought so delicious,<br />Are spoiled - rotten to the core.<br /><br />She had dared to pierce that taut red skin,<br />Seeking juicy delights beneath,<br />But neither zing nor sweetness whetted her lips;<br />An odious pungency caught her teeth.<br /><br />That wily fervour, from her past<br />Could not be arrested forever.<br />Seized by a love; never mutually roused,<br />Not then, not now – not ever.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />22/5/2006strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-38573381017147633352007-05-15T10:01:00.000-07:002007-05-15T12:35:32.694-07:00One Deep Breath - Nurture<div align="left"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center">taut red orbs</div><div align="center">warm in my hands</div><div align="center">ripe tomatoes</div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><p><br /><strong>Tanka</strong><br /><br />I watch her skating<br />Solo for the first time<br />Tears of pride mix<br />With tears of vague regret<br />That well from a future place<br /><br />Strauss<br />15th May 2007 </p><p>This weeks theme, at One Deep Breath, was <a href="http://onebreathpoetry.blogspot.com/2007/05/week-50-nurture.html">Nurture</a>. </p>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-84108672527802603412007-05-10T07:31:00.000-07:002007-05-11T10:05:06.385-07:00UnfurlCreeping vine<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">T'ward</span> sunlight curl<br />Entwining branch<br />In tangled whorl<br />While newborn ferns<br />Reach and unfurl<br />Midst shafting forest light<br /><br />© Strauss<br />9<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> May 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-1178000963519357512007-05-07T08:31:00.000-07:002007-05-10T12:38:22.201-07:00One Breath Haiku and Tanka - Sleep<div align="center">Well, the first one wasn't <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tooooooooo</span></em> bad for a first attempt, so I thought I would chance a second attempt. This week's <a href="http://onebreathpoetry.blogspot.com/">One Deep Breath </a>prompt is - Sleep.<br /><br /><strong>Haiku </strong><br />restless in caves.<br />green slivers pierce snow.<br />bears stir.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />7<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> May 2007<br /><br />I thought I would have a go at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tanka</span> too. I have never tried one of these. I am happy to be learning these new styles. </div><div align="left"><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tanka</span></strong><br />Smiles of relief<br />Mother collapses in chair<br />Dishes in sink<br />Steam swirls from a coffee mug<br />Children finally asleep.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />7<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span> May 2007</div>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-43053794832360059602007-05-02T11:35:00.000-07:002007-05-03T16:16:08.875-07:00Haiku - One Deep Breath - The SeaThis is my first attempt of a Haiku. I have learnt a bit about them from The <a href="http://onebreathpoetry.blogspot.com/">One Deep Breath</a> site. This weeks prompt is "The Sea". I thought I would have a go, so bear with me :)<br /><br />Bright sun, beach clamour.<br />Grey skies, lone vacant beach. Breathe.<br />Listen to wave songs.<br /><br />Strauss<br />3 May 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-34250835610894069322007-04-18T12:43:00.000-07:002007-06-06T10:44:20.263-07:00The BluffThe Bluff stands tall ;<br />Rising like an ancient warrior<br />From fertile coastal plains.<br />Proud and sturdy<br />Against the tumultuous sea.<br /><br />The stoic Bluff;<br />Bearer of unrelenting lashings<br />And vicious attacks<br />From angry waters churning below<br />Striking hard against unyielding granite footings.<br /><br />The south wind thrusts<br />Its merciless breath<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tousling</span> squat grasses<br />And wild geraniums<br />That tremble with the scraping gale.<br /><br />Summit yearnings<br />Require fortitude<br />But jubilation awaits the brave<br />And unsurpassed seascapes<br />transfix initially reluctant ramblers.<br /><br />Encounter Bay curves gently, east<br />A sandy beach hugs the coastline,<br />Like lemon frosting on a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">delectable</span> cake;<br />The white teeth of broken waves<br />bite hungrily into the shoreline.<br /><br />With disciplined eyes<br />One can trace the edge of the world<br />Until far-flung sea mists<br />Blur the horizon<br />Blending land, sea and sky, into one.<br /><br />There is nothing south of The Bluff<br />But a million miles of sea<br />and eventually ice.<br />The Bluff is enduring.<br />The Bluff stands tall.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />14<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> April 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-75652946395853529082007-04-11T23:19:00.000-07:002007-04-11T23:37:10.783-07:00Vapour maidenTo the tilting sway of ocean lullabies,<br />He stood aloft his creaking vessel.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Immersed</span> in maritime harmonies,<br />And the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rhythm</span> of cresting waves,<br />He was hushed, like a babe in tender arms.<br /><br />He waited for her at the bow;<br />Patient like a returning soldier's lover.<br />His eyes scoured the heavens<br />and panned the entirety of a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lavender</span> horizon,<br />until she revealed her form.<br /><br />Light reflections<br />and atmospheric mood<br />determine her appearance;<br />But today,<br />Under endless skies, she wore white.<br /><br />A mass of rumpled petticoats<br />spill from under her skirts.<br />They billow with the memory of sweet promises;<br />revealing themselves as silver threads<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">embroidered</span> into the hem.<br /><br />A crown of sunbeams strain through soft tresses;<br />cirrus <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">wisps</span> trailing behind her.<br />But with eyes cast down,<br />She appeared <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">despondent</span>,<br />For a vapour maiden's life is fleeting.<br /><br />He gazed upon his illusive vision<br />until her windswept fate over came her;<br />smearing her luminous features,<br />and swallowing her subtle radiance<br />And gentle form.<br /><br />Her vanishing breaks the spell cast over him.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Their</span> brief interlude is like a window to her world;<br />A world where the sea meets the sky at the horizon<br />And should he choose to follow her,<br />A vapour maiden who will lead him safely home.strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-55397666258564485972007-03-27T15:27:00.000-07:002007-03-28T14:09:29.079-07:00Last Years LeavesLike bronze organza scraps<br />Upon a seamstresses floor;<br />Discarded pieces<br />Swept into a disused corner;<br />Creativity's after-thought<br />-They have no purpose now.<br /><br />Old leaves,<br />Barely visible,<br />Trapped along the fence line<br />Scuttled along by the wind,<br />The drift of melting snow,<br />And time.<br /><br />In another life,<br />they gleamed.<br />Strong fresh vibrant;<br />Leathery and green.<br />A fibre now dulled;<br />Their chlorophyll hues, drained.<br /><br />Threadbare and fragile,<br />They lay in clusters;<br />Mere ghosts of their former selves.<br />The emerald life blood has retreated<br />Evaporated...been absorbed;<br />While new life sprouts above.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />27th March 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-71161236040742156072007-03-21T13:58:00.001-07:002007-03-21T14:02:38.044-07:00MigrationThe giant silver bird yawns.<br />I, and hundreds of others,<br />Transported in its gullet;<br />A belly full of dreams.<br /><br />Expectant eyes wide<br />To new surroundings.<br />All six senses sensing,<br />The foreign.<br /><br />I have been here but a day,<br />Drifting like Eve on the first morn<br />And yet,<br />It could have been six months.<br /><br />Falls cool, grey reproach;<br />Yellow foliage<br />Crunching under foot,<br />Have Disappeared.<br /><br />Replaced instead,<br />By endless breezy blue;<br />A canopy of frilly, cherry blush;<br />And petal strewn pathways.<br /><br />The birds that flew north for winter<br />Now present themselves right here.<br />The journey having transformed them though.<br />Is this where they all go?<br /><br />All in a single afternoon.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />21/3/2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-56989788912113014912007-03-15T17:40:00.001-07:002007-03-15T17:55:37.357-07:00Antipodean<strong>Antipodean<br /></strong><br /><em>-“I get a sense you are anti-Podeon. Am I correct, Sir?”<br />-“Awww…I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mate.<br />Didn’t know the bloke.<br />He died long before my time.<br />I got nothin’ against the French, but.<br />Although I didn’t much like his hat....now that ya mention it</em>.”<br /><br /><strong>© Strauss<br />14 March 2007<br /></strong><br />Very, very silly indeed.<br />This week’s <a href="http://poetrythursday.org/2007/03/09/this-week%25e2%2580%2599s-completely-and-totally-optional-idea-%25e2%2580%2594-defined/">completely and totally optional idea</a> for Poetry Thursday was noted as “defined”. Contributors were asked to scour their dictionaries in search for interesting words. We were not to look at the meaning, but define the word based on our own impressions. I nearly didn’t do this one. I tried earlier in the week, but it didn’t really work for me. Then I remembered, that I was asked the above question, soon after arriving in Canada. <em>Was I Antipodean</em>? The inquirer was met with a blank glaze-eyed stare, as I answered in a rather ambling monotonous voice; "<em>I am Australian</em>". He replied that he “<em>thought so</em>”, and then he left.<br /><br />In response, I scurried off home in search of a dictionary, for I had never heard the word,<em> antipodean</em>, in my life.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">**Just so you know, Antipode refers to any two places or regions that are on diametrically opposite sides of the earth. Anitpodeans are the inhabitants.</span>strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-86677431155851227752007-03-06T01:14:00.000-08:002007-03-07T23:09:45.092-08:00The Red WalkSpike-heeled stilettos<br />roam the streets in wait.<br />Red Light District,<br />in the dark corners of the night.<br /><br />Shiny leather boots<br />march defiantly as one.<br />The world's Red Armies<br />Unite the Communist front.<br /><br />Winter pale toes<br />stomp the season's first fruit.<br />A silky red wine<br />born from luscious juice.<br /><br />Bare Indigenous feet<br />dance <em>The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Brolga</span></em> with precision.<br />Dry red dirt<br />swirling with the movement.<br /><br />Dorothy's famed shoes<br />click at the heels.<br />Ruby Red slippers<br />Just want to go home.<br /><br />Swollen ankles - mine,<br />throb from standing.<br />Red woollen socks<br />With a hole in the toe.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> March 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-67802144401799695032007-02-20T00:24:00.000-08:002007-02-21T22:57:39.136-08:00The UnsuppressableWe try to hold it together;<br />a finely orchestrated <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">deception</span>.<br /><br />Believing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">no one</span> will ever learn our secret<br />or our pain.<br /><br />But the body knows.<br /><br />And soon enough<br />weeds force and intrude between the presenting cracks;<br />A pestilence of pain<br />nurtured by a well manured inner self.<br /><br />We begin to resemble an untended garden;<br />choked with wild plants and tangle bush,<br />a mood of rotten fruit;<br />prickly,<br />hardened and woody<br />like forgotten parsnips.<br /><br />Even the birds avoid our slowly wilting selves,<br />preferring more joyful <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sanctuaries</span> to linger.<br />.....And we no longer care<br />or notice.<br /><br />So while we try to hold it all together,<br />to keep the secret of our discontent,<br />the body knows.<br />And screams it to the universe.<br /><br />In the end,<br />though no words may depart our lips....<br />Everybody knows.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />20th February 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-66675902968232748002007-02-16T23:24:00.000-08:002007-02-17T08:02:57.499-08:00Solar FlaresSolar plexus swells and radiates.<br />A throbbing, scorching sun, burns the centre of my being.<br />Intense.<br />I am left, feeling blistered and tender.<br />Oh! The pain.....<br />Had I known before,<br />I would have protected my heart under a hat;<br />Wrapped my soul in dark glasses<br />And drunk a cocktail of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Mississippi</span> Moonshine and SPF15 Plus.<br />One can never be <em>too</em> sun smart.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />16th February 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-9867614147307090142007-02-12T19:10:00.001-08:002007-02-14T19:18:07.268-08:00The Tulle Cloaked Bride - a Prose PoemA ghostly apparition of I, drifting within the now familiar fog. Her gauzy veil silhouettes a softened landscape, leaving a world of vague shapes, lingering like enigmatic shadows.<br />Conifers spire toward the heavens, like renaissance towers shrouded in the lost world above.<br />Tiny birds bolt from nearby cedars; feathered darts shooting through her tranquil haze. <br />I breathe the dawn enchantress, knowing her to disappear with the heat of the day. I know not when she might return, to slink across my lawn with dewy steps, lick my eaves and caress the naked branches with a thousand gentle tears.<br />Tomorrow, the rains are set to lavish these whisper-soothed lands, like an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">insistent</span> groom ravishing his tulle cloaked bride. The fog, she will succumb.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />12<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span></span> February 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-40863383945045262492007-02-05T10:14:00.000-08:002007-02-07T23:44:32.526-08:00Frozen LakeYou say I am a frozen lake, like its a bad thing.<br />Perhaps I am…..<br />On the surface I am strong and sturdy<br />While there remains an undercurrent<br />An unseen force, ebbing and flowing.<br />Change taking place slowly, away from prying eyes<br />Life stirs hidden,<br />below an impenetrable icy crust.<br />Privately.<br /><br />But….<br />My veneer would be so thick that I could not feel<br />Numbed to the sensations of an outer universe<br />Paralysed to respond<br />Unmoved<br />Aloof<br />Motionless<br />Dead.<br /><br />If you think I am like a frozen lake.<br />Then help me thaw.<br />Be there when the cracks appear.<br />And my hardened shell <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">liquefies</span><br />Encourage the light to dance and play upon my glistening surface<br />Tell others to peer into the depths of my soul<br />They might even see themselves in my reflection<br />I do realise I might appear unstable.<br />It matters not.<br />I am alive.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">th</span> February 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-74526017736790482342007-02-04T20:14:00.000-08:002007-02-05T00:11:09.794-08:00Savour the ProcessCrude graphite scratches a harmony onto paper;<br />A tattoo of thought and ideas<br />A scarring of images; internal rage and pain <br />A lingering kiss filled with joy, humour and love<br />Or perhaps, an etched still of lingering observation.<br /><br />Fibres entwine here.<br />Graphite smudging a perfect surface.<br />A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">tri</span>o of essences collide;<br />Mineral, mind, material.<br />Creation.<br /><br />Words are formed within the sacred bounds of my notebook.<br />Their decisive combination develops into meaning.<br />Spidery scrawls lumber across the manuscript.<br />Dark retractions blemish the page,<br />They symbolise process, not mistake.<br /><br />Tear not a page.<br />Do not scrunch nor discard it.<br />Savour the process.<br />The pendulum stops swinging at centre,<br />When energy no longer swirls...<br /><br />Only then is the process complete.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">th</span> February 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-85844234483652450482007-01-21T16:18:00.000-08:002007-02-04T20:37:07.247-08:00BirdAn eternal, rejuvenating flower.<br />Waiting.<br />Tight as a bud.<br />She blooms.<br />Wings outstretched;<br />feathered petals,<br />fanned and reaching.<br />Taken.<br />A dance with natures breath,<br />gliding, darting, diving;<br />carried by the wind,<br />like the spore of a thistle.<br />She lands.<br />Enwrapped.<br />Tight as a bud,<br />once again.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />19<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">th</span> January 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-47985797751839923892007-01-21T16:03:00.001-08:002007-02-04T20:37:39.020-08:00BundledThe wind blasts my heavily quilted ears-<br />It wants in.<br />A rumbling slipstream,<br />lashing, determined, unrelenting,<br />failing to penetrate my being.<br />I can hear it.<br />I can see it.<br />It torments and whips<br />the grasses at my feet.<br />But I can not feel it -<br />I just<br />can not<br />feel it.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />21st January 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-45738073155262338032007-01-21T09:10:00.000-08:002007-02-04T20:38:18.360-08:00Polar BearIf my life were a blizzard<br />I'd be the polar bear within it.<br /><br />I will survive.<br />It is the polar bear’s nature to survive such conditions.<br /><br />But to others - I am lost<br />Even to myself<br /><br />Enveloped,<br />blending into the pale of the monochromatic landscape.<br /><br />In a sense, I am safe;<br />lost to all who dare venture into the storm<br /><br />But neither can I be found<br /><br />© Strauss<br />20th Jan. 2007strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-63392041320853809502007-01-07T19:58:00.008-08:002007-02-04T20:38:52.445-08:00Dust CloudsDust clouds smother and choke the air<br />Lingering, frustrating, tormenting.<br />Neither blooming nor swirling<br />They hover like thick plagues of locusts going nowhere.<br /><br />A wagon progression lays in wait<br />Patient but increasingly despairing<br />They know their harvest is spoiling in the dry heat<br />But the dangers of the winding road ahead, require clarity<br /><br />Cultivated treasures once gleamed<br />with all the promises of earths abundance<br />Now, the grey brown shadows of decay threaten<br />while tiny insects swarm and infest.<br /><br />The wagon riders are weary, dejected, defeated<br />They know the harsh winter will soon be upon them<br />And they will be without – their mere survival is now paramount.<br />- But the dust clouds will not settle.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />3rd September 2006strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-51735876599755557142007-01-07T19:58:00.007-08:002007-03-10T23:43:33.684-08:00Bent NailsWe destroyed the back shed today<br />Decayed wood remains left after the fray<br />With jagged old nails poking out<br />“Bang the nails bent”, my husband did shout.<br /><br />“Bang the nails bent”, I instructed my Son.<br />“With the nails jutting out they could hurt someone”.<br />And when those nails refused to lie down<br />We wrenched the nails out and hurled ‘em to the ground.<br /><br />Abiding old nails bent over the wood<br />Ceased to appear as true nails should<br />Twisted; tormented in the sun<br />Now they are bent they won’t hurt anyone<br /><br />We stacked wood into orderly piles<br />Rows and rows extending for miles<br />We hoped the bundles be stolen away<br />So to the curb they were placed at the end of the day.<br /><br />The wood stacks tethered in twine<br />Ancient nails, in the moonlight still shine<br />By the roadside discarded for free<br />Tamed and bent nails can’t hurt you or me.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />25/04/06strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-939190998832729394.post-846118004260863692007-01-07T19:58:00.006-08:002007-02-04T20:39:31.986-08:00BruisedThe sunlight strains through a dust stained window<br />Speckled in last spring’s dried raindrops<br />Bruised shadows fan the entirety of a compromised chamber<br />Not radiant, not luminous, not exactly dull, but – gentle and subdued<br />They flicker as the sunlight plays with the stirring foliage outside<br />Like shadow puppets behind a calico screen<br />I could cleanse the tainted glass;<br />Lift the burden from its <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">smattered</span> lens<br />The light would then flood blindingly, naturally, dazzlingly<br />But I have become accustomed to the bruised shadows,<br />And they trouble you not<br />- Those gentle bruised shadows that dance for me.<br /><br />© Strauss<br />10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">th</span> June 2006strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10277562911746970978noreply@blogger.com0