Friday, February 28, 2014

Joanna M. Weston- Three Poems


the sky here hangs
an upside-down bowl
bleeding snow or sunshine

hills rise like low breasts
that I would cling to
wanting them rounded higher

I saw a girl snow-shoeing
Centre Street yesterday
wished you had seen her
cherry red ski-suit
orange tuque and mitts

the colours warmer
braver than I


here freshly turned earth
rain lashes windows
roses curtsey wet derisions
and laburnum casts black seeds

next year we’ll seed wild flowers
for soldier poets remembered
with poppies that bloom
from sonnets underground

in foreign fields gravelled
between worn gravestones
handed rosemary sage and rue
day after war after war


should I give advice
balance it
in judgement

turn sideways
for a narrow view
bend the words to your shape
twist and twirl them
from a sheepshank knot
fly them from the ceiling
on wings of unreason

whistle my advice
to a forgettable tune
strangle it with gloved hands

don’t get prickled
scarred or cut
by foolishness

once you’ve murdered
the poor thing
dig a grave and stuff it
far down in caverns
hung with rotted silk

JOANNA M. WESTON. Married; has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen-houses. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes', published by Clarity House Press; and poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBooks found at her blog:

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