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Posts Tagged ‘hunger’

Feral

.

She puts food

outside her door

for the cats

and raccoons

and the Scrub Jays –

.

and for all

who leave soft

wild footprints

in the frost.

.

.

(c) 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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I am the water

you draw from your well

steep me

into your tea.

.

I am the slice of hot toast

on your plate

let me melt

your fresh apple butter.

.

I am the evergreen

on your morning walk

breathe me

into your shadow.

.

I am the eyes

meeting yours

in the marketplace

see my hunger.

.

I am the line

down the middle of your road

follow me

through the desert.

.

I am the match

that lights your winter fire

catch my sparks

in a jar.

.

I am the north star

in your fevered night

reach out to me, love

shine on me.

.

.

(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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A taste of wild berries

of manna

falling through trees

of earth and light

ladled into deep bowls

.

sweet fruit

of last night’s dream

now ripe

come break this endless fast.

.

.

(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(a re-post)

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(a Mayberrie poem)

.

Wandering through her garden

she could smell the vegetables

and began to hunger

for some butter-dumpling stew.

It had been his favorite long ago. 

Row by row she harvested

sweet carrots and potatoes,

two turnips and an onion –

and over near the wildflowers

parsley and green beans.

All she needed now

was just a little thyme.

 .

Pacing in the courtyard

he caught his reflection

in the pond.

Who was this king

to love a servant girl –

his young forbidden bride?

Alas, it must secret be

lest they have her head

for she was peasant born.

And now another battle loomed

far across the dunes. 

All he needed now

was just a little time.

.

© 2012, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright

.

(This is a re-post – slightly revised.)

(For links to all poems in this series please click on the Mayberrie tab at the top of this blog.)

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Rain is wetter now

swelling appetites of trees

hungering for green.

.

(c) 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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.

A taste of wild berries

of manna

falling through trees

of earth and light

ladled into deep bowls

.

sweet fruit

of last night’s dream

now ripe

come break this endless fast.

.

(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a Mayberrie poem)

.

It confounds the senses,

Tempest ( )

that roar between starvation

and delight.

She thinks the wind

is gnawing down her door

and hopes the rusty hinges hold.

But wait,

was that a knocking?

She holds her breath

and wonders –

could it be the war is done?

Or was it just a vagabond –

a  famished waif in need of bread?

She wraps a biscuit in her apron,

throws it through a crack

high in the wall

then steals into the cellar

where she beds

among the jars of broken harvest

waiting for this hungry storm

to pass.

.

©  2012   Betty Hayes Albright 

 

.(image via Wikipedia)

.

For the next poem in this series, please click on the Mayberrie tab at top of this page for the entire list. I’m working (slowly) on linking all the poems for a smoother “flow”.

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Like silent statues

English: A tree branch completely en-globed in...

Image via Wikipedia

in the wind

we’re trees

in freezing rain.

Our branches wrap

in rigid ice,

we comb our thoughts

with icicles

and cease to move

except to break.

But then it comes,

the thrust of sun

to melt our casings

into tears

freeing us to hunger,

and to thirst, and

to pine –

but joyfully.

.

©  2004,  2012  Betty Hayes Albright 

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