Friday, February 23, 2007
PEACE
Waking to the sound
of doves at dawn,
not drone of plane
or bomb
Turning in the night
to you, no soldiers
bursting through
the door
Children playing
by the stoop;
they thrive, no worry
will they live the day
Peace is everywhere
but Where?
Where is Peace?
Joyce Pye
Waking to the sound
of doves at dawn,
not drone of plane
or bomb
Turning in the night
to you, no soldiers
bursting through
the door
Children playing
by the stoop;
they thrive, no worry
will they live the day
Peace is everywhere
but Where?
Where is Peace?
Joyce Pye
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Sea Sermon
Barely noticing the beach,
nearly missing a black bullet stone at my feet,
reality is bitter in the belly
and tight around the eyes.
Straightening, I search rasping dunes
empty of the delicate flowers of wiser words,
and breathings of timeless truths.
Sending the angry pebble skidding
upon lumbering, hissing sea,
my faith is in gravity,
in embrace of seaweed,
in wind and surf to
wash the lies and heartbreak away
and away,
leaving only benign shore,
the color of a plain moth's wing.
Jeniferlee Tucker
Topsham
Barely noticing the beach,
nearly missing a black bullet stone at my feet,
reality is bitter in the belly
and tight around the eyes.
Straightening, I search rasping dunes
empty of the delicate flowers of wiser words,
and breathings of timeless truths.
Sending the angry pebble skidding
upon lumbering, hissing sea,
my faith is in gravity,
in embrace of seaweed,
in wind and surf to
wash the lies and heartbreak away
and away,
leaving only benign shore,
the color of a plain moth's wing.
Jeniferlee Tucker
Topsham