Posts Tagged ‘distance’


Late at night

she weaves poetry

silken words

feather spun

tethered to uncertainty

loving anyway.



©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 


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She treads deep water

where they never said goodbye –

it’s been just so long.


(c) 2015 Betty Hayes Albright


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.When she called his name

to the north wind

it roared

through the trees

and made her winter green.


When she called his name

to the mountainside

it rose

up the ridge

like a fever.


When she called his name

to the racing sky

it echoed

like a dozen geese

searching for a season.


When she called his name

to the ocean

it churned

to salt butter

on her toast.


When she called his name

to a sliver of moon

it hung like a lamp

on the dark side

of doubt

and this time she knew

that he heard.


(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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If each thought of you

was one tip-toe to your side

I’d be there by now.


(c) 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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We can wag

the comet’s tail

till our orbits

spin like bracelets

bangling ‘round the sun;

or we can skip

through all the stars

in a game

of ancient hopscotch

where constellations

dance a jig

and time shrinks

to a dot

and we see

there is no distance,

just a difference

of thought.


(c) 1995, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright

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She could start digging

at an angle

through dirt and rock

and iron crust

until the cave grew long

and glistened

with old rain

and her shoulders

would slide through it

like in a birth canal

and she would struggle deep

in black hard-pan

till after centuries

the ceiling would grow thin

and there would be lights

and she would crack through

into another land

close beside a fire pit –

and the grave

of a well-loved dog.


(c) 1995, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a Mayberrie poem)


Her shawl gleamed brightly

in the sun.

She wrapped it tightly

in the cold of silent villagers

and climbed across the pile of stones,

breathing in the salt

of dried seaweed on the sand.

Looking out across the bay

she saw the cliffs of Mayberrie

and farther still, his castle.

(Was he pacing every hallway

or would he get some rest?)

Nothing stirred

except for something light

that flashed atop the tower –

no doubt just a gull.


The bandages around his head

gleamed brightly

as he took his leave

from rites and duty

fleeing court for solitude.

Up the spiral staircase

to the tower’s top he climbed,

and there he gazed

upon the sea,

and fishermen at peace.

Turning, he could see across the bay

to where her village rested,

tucked above the rocks.

Was she there or had she fled?

The beach was still

except for something light

that moved

along the shore.

No doubt just a gull.


© 2012, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright


(For a list of all poems in this series, please click on the Mayberrie tab above.)

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With apologies to Carl Sandburg *


Love wears no shoes.

It uncoils

in a spiral

that plays

like a slinky


our distant hands

arcing in deep waves

across time.


(c)  1995,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright

* Carl Sandburg wrote a poem with this same title, which has this line in it:

“There is a pair of shoes love wears and the coming
is a mystery.”   (I had to disagree! 🙂 )

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