a prisoner in my mind.
Through the window, sky is teasing
roiling clouds buried
in the rubble of a December storm
wind ravaged lawns now
clumped with dampened leaves
the radio blaring about Afghanistan:
pull-out for Canadian troops,
suicide bombers in Baghad.
Searching about for something
to take away my pain I spot
a chickadee, brings me peace, flirts
with feeders on my porch.
Yesterday the park was wanting
for summer dress, branches
in limbo. Sometimes the
day is a tormenter
and I feel trapped inside stares
not wishing to exhort deficiencies.
Go away sodden sky, go away
to the furthest edge of winter storm.
Disappear anguish. Come again spirit
of Christmas, children melding
into laughter inside giggly beings
anxious to exhibit exuberance,
and a supply of innocence.
All I wish for is a slice
of temporary mindset before worry
turns to pain. From shine
to rust, then circle back again.
© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/
Comments
Highhat | May 30, 2011 - 06:37
I'm glad we have summer here now.
;)Pia
Nathan Bednarek | May 30, 2011 - 21:55
"into laughter inside giggly beings
anxious to exhibit exuberance,
and a supply of innocence."
I love these lines. Such an amazing poem. One of the reasons why I love your work is that it just feels so natural and human. I love reading poetry that doesn't force me to escape the room I'm in, but gently encourages me to drift away from it. This is exactly how it feels when I read your work.
A huge well done from me.
Nathan.
Richard L. Prov... | May 31, 2011 - 02:31
Pia, thank you for your words. I kiss the grass that flexes its marching features from lawn to lawn, and I remember, how I remember those winter strains which now cause me with happy exuberance to whistle 'chick-a-dee-dee' and they come like summer wind. We survived winter, phew. Richard LP
Richard L. Prov... | May 31, 2011 - 02:35
Nathan---with kindest thanks, your encouraging words read like a poem. As I strive towards the cusp of my time on this earth, I discover a depth of caring for all that is about me, precious words, the beauty and scent of each moment. Writing is a cherished jewel; protect it within yourself, and allow it to grow ever so slowly, until it marches boldly across your creativity. Richard LP