TO BRET: MY GRANDSON (1)
by Susan Dale
If ever you should wander off
To places far from me
Know that yet I am with you
Woven through the fabric of your being
Like Solomon’s prophesy
In the long-ago yesterdays
We cannot know.
Nor was there a light of grace in our journey
Only the toad you found by the back stoop
And the kitten you made promise
To never go into the street.
But the fierceness in my hands
Was embedded in yours
When we tore open the seams of the earth
And wrest from the heavens
The poems and the dreams
We deemed to be ours
Like strings of stardust
We wrapped ourselves in
And wove back and forth,
And into each other
So that when and where you go
To places I cannot follow
Know that always, I shall be with you.
Night, 07 (2)
by Susan Dale
Tearing out the pages of a long-shadowed noon
Sundown throwing a net over the half-light
at the far edges of sundown
Closing a fist around twilight
In medieval oaks, winds moan in broken chords
and fall into shadows of trees
Note by note into the leaping darkness
Night of wolf eyes
Of moon membranes
Delirious stars
Unconditional surrender to a dark horizon
Settling into the cosmic directness
Of black-stone night
Believing Backwards (3)
by Susan Dale
Believing backwards
When hearts wore grandeur
And souls were delivered to us
on the wings of angels
When spirits floated between dimensions
And while shadows leapt
darkness beat night to the skies
Then - When
We returned to ourselves
Time orbited space
Stole light
Permeated our dreams
But stopped for no one
Susan’s poems and fiction are on Eastown Fiction, Tryst 3, Word Salad, Pens On Fire, Ken *Again, Hackwriters, and Penwood Review. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.
by Susan Dale
If ever you should wander off
To places far from me
Know that yet I am with you
Woven through the fabric of your being
Like Solomon’s prophesy
In the long-ago yesterdays
We cannot know.
Nor was there a light of grace in our journey
Only the toad you found by the back stoop
And the kitten you made promise
To never go into the street.
But the fierceness in my hands
Was embedded in yours
When we tore open the seams of the earth
And wrest from the heavens
The poems and the dreams
We deemed to be ours
Like strings of stardust
We wrapped ourselves in
And wove back and forth,
And into each other
So that when and where you go
To places I cannot follow
Know that always, I shall be with you.
Night, 07 (2)
by Susan Dale
Tearing out the pages of a long-shadowed noon
Sundown throwing a net over the half-light
at the far edges of sundown
Closing a fist around twilight
In medieval oaks, winds moan in broken chords
and fall into shadows of trees
Note by note into the leaping darkness
Night of wolf eyes
Of moon membranes
Delirious stars
Unconditional surrender to a dark horizon
Settling into the cosmic directness
Of black-stone night
Believing Backwards (3)
by Susan Dale
Believing backwards
When hearts wore grandeur
And souls were delivered to us
on the wings of angels
When spirits floated between dimensions
And while shadows leapt
darkness beat night to the skies
Then - When
We returned to ourselves
Time orbited space
Stole light
Permeated our dreams
But stopped for no one
Susan’s poems and fiction are on Eastown Fiction, Tryst 3, Word Salad, Pens On Fire, Ken *Again, Hackwriters, and Penwood Review. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.
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