If I keep this up, I'll be really surprised. I have a habit a starting things and not finishing them.
In the Valley of the Moon, Alberta
Wind-weathered mounds of
what used to be Archaeopteryx,
gravel formed from eroded Pteranodons,
blasted by elements for millions
of eons before we arrived,
so long before we took our first steps.
Grasses bend in breezes
melded for centuries fossils of
Apatosaurus, Raptor, and Stegosaurs.
All that is left
of such stately specimens
is dust,
curiously raw.
[(c) 1998]
A collection of words that might mean something to someone, might bring tears to a few, might open a few eyes, might cause heads to shake, but I see them as poetry. And I'm the one who matters most.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
For shame. I've forgotten to post.
Just realized I haven't posted since last May. I'll try to be better in future. Dust to Dust Someone let a fly inside the house inst...
-
Voicing Silence I wander along the dyke in full sun, crisp breezes interrupt. The tide is out, terns congregate to feed and fuss and fam...
-
Missed two days! OMG Well here's 8th poem with 6th and 7th afterwards. Hail to the Broncos Dedicated to the hockey players ...
-
In Future For Helen Now that I have your attention (in a chair, hands bound, mouth gagged) I can discuss the way forward (not really a di...
No comments:
Post a Comment