The Poets' Place

page 10

Swan

you are a Hollander

without words -

with sunflowers

in your eyes.

~susan

A scorpion corpse

calcified sinks deftly

-black-

-silk- -waters-

-black-

the fronds of dusty lime

smooth under the waxen sun

neat feathers - a swan and it's

shadow! Living now

by a dead-seeing eye

~lev

swan lake

flight equally beautiful in repose, aero glides afloat,

ponders not so wild about bright light venue swans got here,

can haut the serene tho, better than pelicans gawk

~graymutter

she adds one more salt dropplette

to the brackish river

who could have stollen the egg?

who would dare?

in all her sadness she's beauty still

grace and feather splendor

~centime plus

The swan told me...

Have I mentioned

that I am contemplating

changing religions?

I'm so sick

of this

reincarnation

bullshit!

I used to be

the King of Portugal

for Buddha's sake!

I'll admit,

not a tremendous gig,

but strides above

being a swan

on some

shimmering

photographic

pond.

And people have

the nerve to question

why I am the nastiest

swan here.

At least the idiots

could bring me some

fresh Portuguese bread

and quit tossing me those

stale make me gag

slices of white

bread.

Strange...I cannot escape the

feeling I'll be spending

my next existence

as a fire ant

on the dry plains

of Texas.

~SPK

mesmerized

by the descent and capture in water

of the big dipper

in a struggle

with Orion

whose belt

is on this shore

where to?

must i wake

or leave one

please to take

sail on

brief swan

~DarkWind

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