“The End of Eden” Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!” Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way into the apple’s core and out of sight. “Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?” My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.” As Eve complained her stockings had a run, poor…
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911 Ceremony
Our face denies emotion with our stancethough years of suffered loss bring no relief.Today we view the gas mask with a glanceas firemen-stunned among the Tower’s grief.Our calm defies the hurt within recalledthat day we ran through dust as panic stings.Our hair turns white remembering their fallthat day when ashes flew our feet had wings.
Read MoreModigliani Pause
Originally posted on jacquelinecaseypoetry.com:
Painting: Modigliani. So, we must laugh before that day may come; before that twilight leaves us little choice when both will mourn our last day in the sun when colder silence muffles all our voice. Yet greet me now; be kind before the fall. Accept our hours together precious few…
Originally posted on jacquelinecaseypoetry.com:
“The Meeting” If we should meet another time, my heart when we depart this world and travel far, remember how the looks between us start us to another place among the stars. Our love a pensive gaze; a sparkling shower of light where we embrace the need of each. Like…
“Circus Camp”
“Circus Camp” There’s circus camp in USA, today. The animals erupt as Nadler roars! They’re munching at the bone, their hunger stays. The ravenous appear as John Dean soars. This dog and pony show with Dems in tent; a tiny motor car moves center stage. Out pops Obama with ten clown’s consent as Bill and…
Read MoreMartin’s Dream
The Birth of a Hurricane
Originally posted on jacquelinecaseypoetry.com:
? “The Birth of a Hurricane” It’s steamy in the southern Keys tonight. Her air is thick. She tastes of salty fog. A quiet’s fallen with no birds in sight. Her ocean swells; she’s pregnant with resolve. Her palms now twist and spin and wave their skirt and fall too…
The Flowers of the Field
Photo by Priceless Times Photography “The Flowers of the Field” The reach within your baby hands so sweet make father want to hold back ticking time but even you, my child , are forced to meet a different kind of father in this rhyme. He’s called old Time and steals your innocence Allows your golden…
Read MoreThe View From My Back Door
The glow of silver trees against blue sky against a deeper royal blue ally as snow now blankets each and every limb with loving care, their mother covers them. The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast it seems some artist covers to contrast. Her richest blue encircles icy trim with loving care, their mother…
Read MoreChanges
“Changes” A summer’s day when all of nature grins turns vixen when the wind begins to blow. Then all her shiny leaves fall in a spin while in her waters lurk bold undertow. When nature’s beauty turns from sprinkled rain to monsters of intense, repeated roar an angry, churning beast may cause us pain as…
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