Wednesday 2 November 2022

Five Poems by Sherry Steiner


 


 ‘A Bowl of Fruit”

 

Ancient dreams come to life.....A bowl of fruit – one apple at a time

I slice it up three sections square.....I slice it quickly without a care.



When eyelids shutter in mid-day.....and all the chaos falls away

a cavalcade of daisies so sublime.....and for one moment you are mine.

Cloistered affections drown mercilessly... trudging thru fields of marshy sea.



Ancient dreams come to life.....A bowl of fruit – one cherry at a time

I slice it up five sections square.....I slice it quickly without a care.



I go to the lake to ponder all.....watching the season trip and fall.

Counting bees that swoop down low.....a cotillion of sparrows to and fro.

A lopsided raccoon bays at the water....his .sense of self for just one quarter.



Ancient dreams come to life...A bowl of fruit – one orange at a time

I slice it up seven sections square...I slice it quickly without a care.



I close my eyes and drift away.....wind wrapped fairytales out to play.

Bells ringing from the steeple top.....A fiery frost – a sudden stop.

I’m tired of all the rigmarole.....the rocky path always on hold.



Ancient dreams come to life.....A bowl of fruit – one grape at a time

I slice it up nine sections square.....I slice it quickly without a care.



It’s a pirate’s story floating on air.....a mountain decent in disrepair.

Cobbled webs tangle their weary selves..A tribe of songsters a band of elves.

Howling coyotes glorify the night.....as stark reminders hold on tight.



Ancient dreams come to life.....A bowl of fruit – one seed at a time

I slice it up thirteen sections square.....I slice it quickly without a care.



Pearls Wrapped in Diamonds

 

His talk was as bright as a lark - Frosted feathers lay in disarray

Right there at the end of the road - The rusted wheels parked alone

And they kept saying no one was home.

 

Counting backwards on a one way street - Pearls wrapped in diamonds

One hundred and ten in the heat.

 

Thundering jets crucify- Waterways dry way up to the sky

A moment in a minute’s time as mystics sings fairytales in the key of A, B, C & D.

Closing the door – that one – crested thoughts find a way.

 

Counting backwards on a one way street - Pearls wrapped in diamonds

One hundred and twenty in the heat.

 

On the other side of that side shards of glass fill the air

Tempered rain in three quarter time balancing purse strings from afar.

A table covered in shredded memories.

 

Counting backwards on a one way street - Pearls wrapped in diamonds

One hundred and thirty in the heat.

 

He arrived at noon unknown – skid marks a mile long

A story to be told – a story old

A thousand words his song – he arrived at noon unknown.

 

Counting backwards on a one way street - Pearls wrapped in diamonds

One hundred and forty in the heat…pearls wrapped.



Five Times Three

 

Waiting for the water to rise – for you to surmise

just leave all those damn boots behind.

 

Love drenched recollections that won’t ring dry

as your chaotic circus circles way up in the sky.

I remember when a song was so sublime

when stolen alphabets got lost one spoonful at a time.

Corn starched marionettes hang by a thread

Why is it so hard to say the word dead?

 

Waiting for the water to rise – for you to surmise

just leave all those damn boots behind

 

A photograph split in two where one part

goes west and  the other part  is worn on the chest.

Short circuited images piled high

Electrifying differences coast on by.

An irresistible offer of memories by the pound

portable affections without any sound.

 

Waiting for the water to rise – for you to surmise

just leave all those damn boots behind

 

Within a moment’s notice I can count to three

as you toss my silver bracelets out to sea.

Secret service agents arrive with contempt

parading their melancholy never spent.

Five million dollars take a hike as castrated bankers go on strike.

 

Waiting for the water to rise – for you to surmise

just leave all those damn boots behind.

 

Chocolate virgins underground gasp for air

as suited kangaroos mysteriously disappear.

A cobbled stone street tracked with lace

no one knew how to look at each other face to face.

Your embroidered frenzy full steam ahead –

we once had dinner mints at noon instead.

 

Love drenched recollections that won’t ring dry

as your chaotic circus circles way up in the sky.

 

Waiting for the water to rise – for you to surmise

just leave all those damn boots behind.



  That Steady Rhythm

 

A chorded melody to all of eternity

Polished roads slick to the touch

Way down yonder over there

Fresh sounds – a book of such.

Sailing on high tide far out to sea

Seagulls flutter and flirt on by

Immersed within your steady rhythm

A song without words hangs out to dry.

 

A corner on the street...a street on the corner...Polished roads slick to the touch

 

Standing on top of a soft dune of thought

Confessions on a rainy day –

Behind my eyes a cloud of autumn

the tide turns grey with frost.

September all around -

Such an early turn.

So many planes flying low

Everything burns slow.

 

A corner on the street...a street on the corner...Confessions on a rainy day

 

Imaginary roads wind around the hills

Eighty beats a minute a clock in time.

Tomorrow when the ghosts disappear

Your dreams will surface within mine.

Solo speaking in the blink of an eye

That noisy silence within fills -

Water in a porcelain jug weeps.

A purse with gold coins spills.

 

A corner on the street...a street on the corner....Your dreams will surface within mine

 

A chorded melody to all of eternity

Polished roads slick to the touch

Way down yonder over there

Fresh sounds – a book of such.

Sailing on high tide far out to sea

Seagulls flutter and flirt on by

Immersed within your steady rhythm

A song without words hangs out to dry.

 

A corner on the street – a street on the corner......

Eternity in a moment’s time...



“Where Daisies Go To Die”

 

A piddle- a riddle – a two bit fiddle -

An anxious dog strays far and wide.

Stepping in circles of midriff pandemonium

tuxedoed cornucopia piled high

leather bootstraps twisted dry.

Over yonder where daisies go to die

where the sheriff pardons all

except those who stand tall.

At 11:18 one star appears

with three hundred constellations shaking in fear.

When I looked up all was not still

as the heavens swirled slowly down the hill.

Knuckle cracking melodies go west

cowboys with harmonicas know best.

When the range was clear of buffalo

and the wide open sky beckoned

 they hitched a ride 3000 miles out

 with an eagle and a bell and a shout.

 Waiting for sunshine on the other side

while a tornado swoops us on down

landing in some unforgiven town.

Yesterday when I thought about today

when the parrot did a little sway

you said that paradise was only a stone’s throw away.

A piddle - a riddle – a two bit fiddle -

An anxious dog strays far and wide.

I question the rain in Spain –

the English Paraguay

the statistical ridiculousness of fate

the thin line between love and hate.

Many new moons ago lovers stuttered

flutes fluttered – windows shuttered.

Darkness rose in mid-day over a bed of hay.

 Horses galloped on by

over yonder where daisies go to die.

Stepping in circles of midriff pandemonium

tuxedoed cornucopia piled high

leather bootstraps twisted dry.

And yesterday I still thought about today

about that blue jay in a whispered bed of hay.

 








Sherry Steiner:

Lives in Housatonic MA USA ,originally from New York City. Published writer of off-beat poetry, monologues, flash fiction and musical performance pieces - arts educator, exhibiting visual artist as well as performing musician on a double-neck ukulele/dulcimer/piano.

www.sherrysteiner.com  


 




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