I Don’t Always Poast Pomes …

… but when I do, I like to poast TWO FOR TUESDAY!

I like these. They’ve recently hit my inbox and fit my mood.


by Janet Loxley Lewis

From “Cold Hills”

I have lived so long
On the cold hills alone …
I loved the rock
And the lean pine trees,
Hated the life in the turfy meadow,
Hated the heavy, sensuous bees.
I have lived so long
Under the high monotony of starry skies,
I am so cased about
With the clean wind and the cold nights,
People will not let me in
To their warm gardens
Full of bees.


Opus 181

by Arthur Davison Ficke

Skeptical cat,
Calm your eyes, and come to me.
For long ago, in some palmed forest,
I too felt claws curling
Within my fingers…
Moons wax and wane;
My eyes, too, once narrowed and widened…
Why do you shrink back?
Come to me: let me pat you–
Come, vast-eyed one…
Or I will spring upon you
And with steel-hook fingers
Tear you limb from limb…

There were twins in my cradle…

Dazzle me!

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