Poem #44: Autumn Whispers

Autumn Whispers

Amber snowflakes drift

around us

autumn whispers softly 

another quiet 

wilderness of deer and grass 

and rude insect sounds 

yesterday was never 

mine but now 

dawn has cleared 

the road bringing you nearer 

and I 

regard the improved prospect

the fences

holding me in

welcoming you

and fall.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #44: Autumn Whispers

Poem #43: Clover

Barefoot on the grass,

Clover hummed with honey bees...

All is quiet now.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #43: Clover

Poem 42: Leaden

Leaden-- 

to breathe,

to eat, 

to drink, 

too great an effort 

for my brain 

shuts 

        windows 

closes 

        curtains and 

locks 

        the door.

Arms growing weak, too

weak to move 

a pen across 

the page.

What saves me is

this moment, is all

      floating 

      between worlds,

needing, 

doing without, 

wanting to 

curl around and cradle

my silky self.

Simply not enough 

        to cook,

        to water, 

        to want,

to eat 

   waffles-and-ice-cream 

     on the boardwalk

       faster than 

         it can melt.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Wildwood, NJ

Poem 42: Leaden

Poem #41: Jane Smiles

Painting of the 3 Brontë Sisters, by Branwell Brontë (L to R: Anne, Emily, Charlotte)

Jane Smiles

(Inspired by Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre)

At rest, stern, 

Strong, the squared-off jaw, set

Almost stubbornly, betrayed

Only by the softening

At the corners 

Of his mouth,

And the gentle

Brightness of his eyes

         --often darkened by 

         the onset of a storm--

Though this is how 

I think of them

         --searching, sweet--

When I think of them,

When he smiles,

And smile.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #41: Jane Smiles

Poem #40!

Musings on my Companion

Gentle comfort, like

Toast and marmalade,

Served with sugared, milky tea.

Marmalade-and-milky-tea-colored

Toes, curled in on themselves,

Cozily, in reflex, next to me.

Like tiny velvet nautili,

Feet neatly crossed,

In an X of pure contentment.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #40!

Poem #39

Early Summer, from Bed

What matters now is

The wars of summer being waged 

Around the neighborhood,

Punctuated by high, thin screams,

Guerrilla troops armed with plastic

Guns and sabers, ducking in and out of bushes,

Answering to the imperious commands issued

By an ever-evolving platoon of leaders.

What matters now is

The barking of that same, damn dog--

You know the one...little, yellow--

Against the background of 

Evening's baroque birdsong,

Accompanying the alto voices of

Mothers who, dinner cooked 

And families fed, trade stories 

In work-wearied tones

While their children run wild.

What matters now is

The pungent smoke from the neighbor's 

Impromptu barbecue pinching my nose;

The gentle hum of my box fan,

Working hard these days;

The glowing azure of 

Twilight drawing close;

The bitter, plummy taste of

Dark chocolate on my tongue;

And the sweet, soft kindness 

of your kiss lingering 

Momentarily, on my lips.

[With thanks to Pat Schneider for the inspiring exercise...]

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Poem #39

Poem 36: Pretty Reeds

When pretty reeds flock teasingly,
You will change.
When mockingbirds sing pleasingly,

And midnight winds blow hot and strange,
The sky tilts
And strokes the parched and fevered range.

It soothes the secret heart, which melts.
Expectant,
It carefully undoes itself.



© Hannah Six, 2013

Poem 36: Pretty Reeds