Embracing
Idle tremors, love’s joyful feelings
under the blooming bower tree
powerfully murmurs the breeze
flowers flit and rapture reposes
a together treasure that kisses
tastes and healing all there is.
Bound By Nature
Visually identify’s why
by the because of it
in the parking lot
indistinct, unchosen
Virtue pines, too much wine
the lost lottery tickets
perhaps locked in the car
with a brail reader mouth
and the corner of an eye
I sigh, while the engine purrs
wave adieu to inaudible
expletives, unfettered
beyond the window where
the unhappy soul jokes
in a made up language
called gibberish, nothing
comes to call, nothing
up the wall while tears fall
from oblivion leaving
and only smiles remains.
The Unknown
No insults or praise
Thanks is forgotten
No gratitude gems
Boys, like flying ants
With too much residue
While the larder freezes
And wonder halts.
By Ann Privateer
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