On the porch in blueblack suit a grackle walks
By water bowl, his dull brown spouse cackles, stalks
In circles near the trees their family talks

In the shadows of the leaves stands birdbath waterbowl
Through the branches and the leaves come waterfowl
The wind walks through the leaves and branches roll

It’s suppertime, and I reach out to you across a casserole
Outside, we hear the grackles talk to waterfowl
And through the silence we talk with words and soul

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2011* All Rights Reserved

Posted again for article on common speech 12.13.13;
I thought this my best example. I also wrote Self Portrait at Seven
which I posted for #OLN Tuesday as an effort to achieve this voice of mine.
I wrote another for today, but as poems often do it resisted my attempt
to do what I needed it to.

If you’ve read this before don’t feel compelled to comment.




Through the mirror,
there on the other side
where this world’s reversed,
ripples compress inwards
from the edge of the universe.

I would sail in
from some wasteland quest;
a conqueror beyond the frame
with trophies of vanquished monsters,
gliding in silver to that vanishing core.

The journey yields wonders,
words soaked in music,
a music of experience.
Lyrics unleash meaning
and I would sing them

as I approach center there.
Then, I’d shrink to the start,
no larger than an atom,
no larger than a quark
to the idea before the spark.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved


© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved