samanthasound

Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

from one of my favorite authors

In poetry on June 11, 2012 at 10:41 am

“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
―J.R.R. Tolkien

day 92 – near silent places

In poetry on November 29, 2011 at 2:00 pm

my heart feels like an empty boat dock

a quiet off-season bay

a wind-blown flag line against the pole

my heart feels like near silent places

chilly wooden houses

cold saltwater breezes.

this place in my heart, there is nothing to do really

but take slow walks to get coffee

say hello to the people who see me,

the few people still left in town.

day 91 – nighttime

In poetry on November 28, 2011 at 3:44 pm

a tall glass of water and a pillow for my head

cool, fresh water and a warm, clean bed.

the wind is blowing heavy sending storm in winter’s stead

i can hear it on my window like there’s something to be said,

sounding purposed in its movements like i’m purposed in my own

shaven legs between the bed sheets, showered hair on collar bone.

silence all around the house except the rain and windy hum,

as i settle into sleeping til the night is spent and gone.

day 86 – to the mountains

In poetry on November 23, 2011 at 12:08 pm

take me to the mountains.

take me where i cannot hear

the traffic in the streets

sirens’ distant screams,

where the traffic inside of me

fades into kettle screeching

and foggy hillside mornings.

where i can look out of the window

to where cold is settling deep

and look forever and think and dream

warm, quiet, serene

and steal away from the bustling.

take me to the mountains.

day 76 – lost and found

In poetry on November 10, 2011 at 11:57 am

there’s a fall view from my windows

cross-legged on my made bed

books strewn like puzzle pieces

pieces of my will to remain steady

cold feet and curly haired

and a plan to be defiant

shattered by a storm of falling leaves

and a still voice

surely whispering something too good,

i believed it unlikely until now.

day 76 – some verse

In poetry on November 9, 2011 at 11:49 am

“musical checkbooks,” my mother says, knowing all too well

her voice in my head

i take the last of one account and transfer to pay the electric

the cold wind bows in for coming winter’s sake

and i cry just to get it out

and i sit, hopeful, with day and music and coffee

expecting fulfilment of promises

expecting hard work

day 71 – ebsd

In poetry, thoughts on things on November 4, 2011 at 11:53 am

in this installment of ebsd:

trader joes whole grain toast with butter and homemade strawberry jam

apple slices

trader joes vanilla and cream yogurt

cup o’ hazelnut coffee

ft: annemarie’s slow cooker recipe book

.

i wanted to see what was out there in the poetry world about breakfast, and i came across this little gem by Carl Sandburg, touching on the beginning of what we now know as the American Food Industry:

Farm Poem

Red barns and red heifers spot the green
grass circles around Omaha—the farmers
haul tanks of cream and wagon loads of
cheese.

Shale hogbacks across the river at Council
Bluffs—and shanties hang by an eyelash to
the hill slants back around Omaha.

A span of steel ties up the kin of Iowa and
Nebraska across the yellow, big-hoofed Missouri
River.

Omaha, the roughneck, feeds armies,
Eats and swears from a dirty face.
Omaha works to get the world a breakfast.

day 63 – wednesday morning verse

In poetry on October 26, 2011 at 8:43 am

go while the morning is still fresh

write while the writing is good

move while the inspiration is stirring

run

get up while the sun is rising

the sun in its finest form

i’ve never seen it like this morning

distinct rays spoking

out of the hubbed horizon

yellow and orange

the sky deep pink behind it

day 51 – work in progress

In poetry on October 12, 2011 at 5:06 pm

standing alone in a sand storm

hair whipping, eyes barely making out shapes

and watering, grains in lashes

mixing with tears.

weeping wails engulfed in wind gusts

a small frame taking a beating one blow after another

gladly swaying with the directions.

something to move me!

a gasp in through my mouth

face pointed toward the covered sky,

i don’t understand where i am,

dull oranges of where sun used to be.

i feel a hand grab mine through the dust

and hear whispers of the truth beyond the wall,

“joy in the grit.”

day 48 – saturday morning verse pt. 2

In poetry on October 8, 2011 at 8:01 pm

fashionable people

saturday brunch, 2 sweet teas

in glass cups, with ice and lemon slices

with watches and argyle socks

sunglasses and neat tights and mary janes.

i love dates on saturday mornings

sunny sides of streets

breezy, cool in shade

any neighborhood is sublime

when i make it a little mine.

the autumn is only as spectacular

as the summer before it hot

and long

and lacking in luster.

beards are out, and eyes are bluer

against faded white skin

only remembering sun tans.