the white snow
of camelia petals
scattered after the storm
daylight dancing shadows
on a wet pavement reflecting
chilled to the bare bones that signal autumn
Roger Smith April 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
A Garden City Requiem
Ma, I got buried
beneath the bricks
in a foreign city
no more to hear the dialect
of my homeland
.. Please leave me a message
The smoke is overwhelming me
I hear no others where before
our lively chatter
filled this space
with hopes and dreams
.. Please leave me a message
Ma, I am dying
no more to see the sun and feel
the warm Nor'Wester
sweep across the dust yellow summer fields
of Canterbury
.. Please leave me a message
.. Leave me a message
Please
Thursday, February 17, 2011
River Dancing
On a summer night you can hear the snap
of a jack
ripples in the silver twilight
pursed lips towards the moon of mayflies dawning
in the still heat of evening making love
on the fatal attraction of
discarded waders
in a life so short and a dusk so long
and as blackness envelops
the memories cling like arms
passion sated
the whip of line laid low on water
stalking, still
the stream of consciousness unabated
of a jack
ripples in the silver twilight
pursed lips towards the moon of mayflies dawning
in the still heat of evening making love
on the fatal attraction of
discarded waders
in a life so short and a dusk so long
and as blackness envelops
the memories cling like arms
passion sated
the whip of line laid low on water
stalking, still
the stream of consciousness unabated
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