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Late November

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Without all their leaves

did the trees lose their beauty

or was it revealed?

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(c) 2014, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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Thursday is Thanksgiving in the U.S.

Love and thanks to everyone, here and around the world, for your friendship and poetic exchanges on WordPress.   🙂

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(photo from morguefile.com)

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There are times

love is a fine rain

misting down

all for naught

evaporating before

it can hit the ground

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but sometimes

love peels back the rain

exposing sun

sending heat

palpitations to the earth

handing us a rose.

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(c) 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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Shadorma November

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Mimic

This brilliant little poem speaks for itself.

The Cheesesellers Wife

Words are blunt instruments
Poetry sharpens them
Tries to bring them to a point
To break the silence

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

View original post

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Day and night

we must remember

take nothing

for granted

everything is in flux

love alone endures.

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(c) 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Shadorma November)

The Wait

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And she will dwell

in a cottage of white

and wait for him

at the river’s edge

with birds and breezes

tending the trees.

And they’ll be coming

through the woods,

the poets and flutists

late at night

and after they’re gone

she’ll dance naked

through

the wildflowers

beneath the moon

a yellow ribbon

tied around her heart.

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(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post from 2012)

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clipboard poem b

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Fresh paper

on the old clipboard

new gel pens

with blue ink

ready to cook up a poem

waiting for my muse.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Giant

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It comes in darkness

like a gentle giant

no trumpets or glare

just strong arms

that lift you

above the sharp slopes

to the top

of the mountain

you’ve climbed for so long.

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You throw off your pack

and the valley widens

into a smile

and the sun spreads

like butter

on loaves of eternity

and you finally see

that it’s you, love –

you are the giant.

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© 2000, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(originally posted in 2012, now revised)

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