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Posts Tagged ‘longing’

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Are they really lifeless

those empty arms

of winter

branching leafless

in naked grace?

Gaia says no,

that deep in frozen dreams

memories thicken,

sweet syrup

of other times gone

and dreams to come.

Till then these aching limbs

reach out to the silence,

bare

but not barren.

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© 2013, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(a re-post)

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I am the water

you draw from your well

steep me

into your tea.

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I am the slice of hot toast

on your plate

let me melt

your fresh apple butter.

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I am the evergreen

on your morning walk

breathe me

into your shadow.

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I am the eyes

meeting yours

in the marketplace

see my hunger.

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I am the line

down the middle of your road

follow me

through the desert.

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I am the match

that lights your winter fire

catch my sparks

in a jar.

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I am the north star

in your fevered night

reach out to me, love

shine on me.

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(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

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sweet fruit

of last night’s dream

now ripe

come break this endless fast.

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(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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In spring she waits

for tethered clouds

to fly apart

so she can ride

the northbound sun

as it barrels through the trees.

She wonders if his sky is blue,

and if the shore

where they embraced

is held together still

with sandy logs

and braids of kelp.

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But today she takes the longing path

that weaves close to the river

with its folded banks

and tangled roots.

Waddled crows

once hopped the rocks

to warn them of intruders.

She wonders if he sees it still,

the vernal sun

that laced their days,

and if their memories are safe –

and do they intertwine?

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©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(A Mayberrie poem – re-post, revised)

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800px-The_sun1

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O goddess of love

I pray you’ll be

the rise of dawn

that lifts me tall

into a selfless plane

beyond the hunger

in my veins

for tender pulse,

for selfish bleed.

I ask you, meet

this longing high

that love be like

a willing star

that has no other need

except to shine.

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(c) 1995, 2015  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Image from Wikipedia)

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(a Mayberrie poem)

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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.

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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.

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© 2012, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright

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

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