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Reading Room
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Poetry Selections
How Is It Feathered Flocks Know?
Summer's Return
January
Rain
Need
Fog
I
Love a Rainy Day
How Is It Feathered Flocks Know?
How is it feathered
flocks can know Is it that first
subtle hint of autumns hue Or is it the blast
of arctic air Im certain I
shall never know, |
Fall's
fluorescent foliage burst forth in brilliant hue in the cool white light of the morning sun A not-so-subtle sign of winter's impending fury Summer's days were numbered and, gracefully, she stepped aside for the radiant array of Fall's display She would return some day in the heat of passion and embrace her world once more |
January Rain
Isn't it funny
How a January rain
Can bring about a downpour
Of tears, how the cold, somber
Sky brings to mind the passing
Of years?
Gone, again,
The tranquil glow
Of holiday candles,
The warmth of heart,
The pure feathery softness
Of a Christmas Eve snow.
In with the new, out with the old
We chant, one and all
Cheering last year's passing
While we welcome the unknown,
When it is the unknown we truly fear,
The past we hold dear.
Isn't it funny
How we can see so clearly
In a January rain...
You were so small
I knew you
would always need me
Then you grew
despite a mother's forbidding
But I loved you still
And you needed me yet
Now you are tall
And I doubt you
need me
Soon you (must) leave
despite unspoken forbidding
But I will love you still
Please need me yet
In the darkness of night it crept
Embracing each thing with a gentle mist
Its hazy shadow was cast upon the hard-frozen earth
The image born, complete peace
I delighted in the ethereal beauty
And was acutely aware of the hush
That had fallen along with the fog, muting
Transforming each thing for a moment
Clouds hide the sun
And in thanks my tears fall freely
mingling with drops of rain
No one sees my sadness now
Or the veiled bleakness of my soul
The tortured thoughts of arising doubt
Uncertainty that does not wane
They don't understand
And I can't explain
How I love a rainy day
The child had grown
Innocence left home
It happened much too fast
And then tomorrow
Became what was
The present could not last
And see clearly through all doubt
Though heart might try to hide
Before the door of your heart I lie in wait
For I know my hunger shall be satisfied
neither touched nor would be touched
only from afar, keeping his heart to himself
allowing it to beat only in solitude
of all he wanted and could not have
(All poetry on these pages original work of Monica E. Smith)
*I Welcome Any Comments On My Poetry*
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