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Loss of Power

.

The lights blow out

and the room grows

starkly quiet

in the dark

.

except for the drip

drip

dripping

of a faucet and

.

those thoughts

she had ignored

now howling

like the wild

of the wind.

.

.

©  2015, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

.

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Perennial

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Ben Naga, I think you’ll find his blog well worth checking out. His poetry contains wisdom, humor, satire, and in this case, great beauty.

Ben Naga

 1805. Perennial…..
…..
…..
PERENNIAL

Keeps her secrets
Within her silence

I too, passing her
Day after day

A gladsome addition
To my daily constitutional

Grateful to the wind
That blew her seed here

A gradual paling
Day after day

Petals crinkle, fall
Her secrets die with her

I shall mourn her absence
Patiently await next Summer

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Past Time

.

She whittles

on a block

of solitude

until it’s gone

and pieces lie

about her feet

and slivers

bleed her hands

carving

out another poem

that only he

will understand.

.

.

(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

.

Uncut

.

IMG_7779

.

When we let it grow

a weed might just surprise us

with uncut beauty.

.

(c) 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

.

IMG_7796

.

(a re-post)

Fount

.

She stifled her passion

with a bone cork

and Earth became

a rocking jug

with aching sides

and tears that leaked

through cracks

and there was naught

but a dry brown light

across the sky.

.

The gods looked down

and cursed.

They pulled loose the plug

and ground it to dust

with flying fists

until Earth trembled

and roared

its mountainous heat

into the sky

in a billowing boundless fount

of love un-damned.

.

.

(c)  1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

.

Pendant

.

seagull pendant

.

I wear the old necklace

a gift from my son

.

he tells me

  to stop saying

  if only and should’ve

 .

he bought it

with his pizza money

.

it was nobody’s fault

   he says.

   I want to believe

.

his heart was young

and vital then

.

he would’ve hated

   the hospital with all

   those tubes and machines

.

whenever I wore it

he was proud and happy

.

the coroner said

   it was probably quick

   which was a blessing

.

like a pewter seagull

soaring.

.

 .

©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright

.

 

Pause

.

It all begins to crinkle,

the leaves, the sky

the boundaries of our vision.

Green ruffles turn to gold,

romaine edges of a dream

that curls and wrinkles

in the sun’s retreat.

Our shadows too turn ragged,

we feel them

stretch

and fold

their origami corners

that we too may slumber

in the pause

between now and again.

.

(c) 2000, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

.

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