The Errant Vines

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The Errant Vines Poems may is here. by Gizmo22 early may morning arrives. dew settles upon the grass... moist and silver... wine for the earth mother. © Gizmo22 2006 Mill House, 1966 by Philipa Shooting marbles in dirt left snail trails long enough to find the perpetually flaked house. Lines hung with blue collars from one identical home to another. Across a fissured road, cavernous wooden giants with blank open windows stood silently along the Mascoma. Smelling of Ivory soap and boiled chicken, Meme Ida would suffocate me in her hard-earned breasts, slip dry candies between my lips and call me Linda. My name is not Linda, still her conflicted Canadian tongue granted me a secret identity. At night, my ears covered by finch’s wings would hear ghostly looms droning. © Philipa 2006 Back to See by Jade-Artluvr I recall as a child, Morbidly searching in the dim moonlight, For signs of your heaving sheet, The soft cotton barely rising, Proving your weathered, elderly shell, Still longed for life fulfillments, Now, as I gaze into your coffin, I find myself searching again, Cotton doesn't breathe on its own, Here, standing at the edge of a last glance, I would've looked upon your face a million times by now, My dear, most perfectly weathered shell, The tide has come in to reclaim its creation, But your spirit shall remain ashore with me, Until at last, I come back to see. © Jade-Artluvr 2005 Pesky Fish of the Brook by Jade-Artluvr I think I'd like to go fishing, Go watch the trees, and feel the breeze, And the tiny bubbles around my knees, The leaves are turning, The air cool and crisp, Winter's quickly approaching, And it's almost too cold to fish, But quiet is the day, As slowly rolls the time, I string my little worm, And cast a hopeful line, Peaceful is my time spent, Waiting by the brook, Sometimes I catch a little fish, Most times I lose my blasted hook, I cast my bait and long I wait, While thumbing through my thoughts, And when the day is dimming, My patience quickly thinning, My tackle box I lock, And down the trail I walk, But I have to turn and look, I swear I hear them laughing, Those pesky fish of the brook. © Jade-Artluvr 2005 Trivial Pursuit by NoClockThing search and distract time shatters sinking - hanging on in-between I don't © NoClockThing 2004