Cinquain Train

jaus tail

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feelings
of love are true
when you can burp before
the person and not say sorry.
true love.
 

CDSinex

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It's new,
this talk of spring.
A crocus in gray snow,
the distant sound of returning
mallards.
 

CDSinex

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Noiseless,
the spring pond waits.
The ice has all melted,
frogs still sleep, and geese have not yet
come home
 

A. Hamilton

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Come Home
Turn your face North
Surely you hear the child's song?
Harmony from your heart. Come home,
Moon Child
 

CDSinex

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At night,
the window's closed—
frost visits the garden,
erasing the last vestige of
summer.
 
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CDSinex

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Just gasp:
the first deep breath
of winter's morning air.
A gentile cough clears the ice from
your throat.
 

Perscribo

Pound cake.
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Your throat
quivers in sleep.
Slight, slouched across my lap,
I long to trace each curve of you
pulsing.
 
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CDSinex

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(Back in the early 1970s I had a girl friend who lived in an artist’s loft [she was a painter] across the street from a biker bar. The word “pulsing” triggered memories.)



Pulsing
neon bar sign.
The thin window curtains
defused the light, but not the roar
of bikes.
 
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CDSinex

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I think I killed the thread. A bad poem is better than a dead thread. (See below)

In the early 1970s I lived in Saratoga Springs, NY for a few years. At the time I had a Peugeot PX-10, which I would use around town.

Of bikes:
I would ride my
Peugeot to High Rock Park,
Saratoga Springs, searching for
poems.
 
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CDSinex

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Poems,
At least new ones,
seem to be avoiding
this page. Perhaps it’s time to post
something.
 

Robots

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In My Place
Stitches
Across every face
They draw lines of wisdom
Of wisdom of pain of tears of
Blood, of.
 

CDSinex

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Blood of
the evening sky—
no delight in ninety-
nine-degree sunsets with no clouds
in sight.
 
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Perscribo

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[FONT=&quot][FONT=&quot]In sight[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][FONT=&quot]of the trail’s end[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][FONT=&quot]I slow my pace and smell[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][FONT=&quot]sagebrush upon the wind once more[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot][FONT=&quot]alive.[/FONT][/FONT]
 

CDSinex

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Broken,
my train of thought
shifts skyward as taunting
Canada Geese let me know they’re
leaving.
 

CDSinex

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Hitching
a ride on my
sleeve, a lost ladybug
seeking the warm refuge of my
cabin.