Showing posts with label Anaphora. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anaphora. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Old Otalgia



Compassion’s earache
sits on the tattered couch
worn thin by visitors
who came to get
and seldom returned to give.

Compassion’s earache
sips Pepto-Bismol
straight from the bottle,
waiting for someone
to take her out
for a real drink,
or at least make
her some chamomile,
pop in a DVD,
and rub her feet
once in a while.

Compassion’s earache
has thick-skinned,
broad shoulders
even when we are
too blind to see them droop,
too thin-skinned to care,
and too deaf to hear her
when she calls for us to listen too.



© 2014 Jennifer Wagner



I’m back from a little blog-sabbatical and it’s OpenLinkNight at dVerse!

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Full Circle from the High Road



You asked me how I felt,
after the year gone shipwreck
in the land of the malignant albatross,
and I could never answer you completely—
my chest too constricted, my voice,
mutilated and rasping in the wind.

You asked me how I felt,
and I have found words now,
though I have only wings for yesterday
fitted to fly in a sky I no longer believe in.

You asked me how I felt,
but I will hold my tongue
and watch patiently from my perch
the crow you will have to eat
nesting among wolfsbane and water hemlock,
while I am gaining strength to dip my feathers
and soar above the vultured horizon.

You asked me how I felt
and soon you’ll know
how it feels.



© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse where Victoria has us writing anaphora poetry.

*wolfsbane and water hemlock are highly toxic plants.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Storms


Circumstance


White sails calmly sifting through a cerulean sea
A storm is coming, though powder blue skies are mum
Edging out the tranquil scene, comes a darkness

Passengers sleepy, lulled by the gentle breeze and even gentler wave
A storm is coming, its breath caught while attempting to speak
And the warming sun coaxes dreamers into respite

Unsteady hold or certainty begins the test
A storm is coming, preparers beware
Holding the light may be all you can do


Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner 
Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry