Poems
by Diane Webster

 

Halloween Mask

 

Clear as newly born

an old man’s face emerges

from the swimming pool.

Below the surface his body

ripples wrinkles and sags

buoyed by water

imagining pictures --

a young man plays

beneath his Halloween mask.

 

 

 

 

 

Seas Again

 

The ship in a bottle

is discovered on shore

wondering what the message reads.

The bottle shatters

in sprays of glass

as the boat absorbs the ocean

inflates, grows, matures

to full size to sail the seas again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Am A Corral

 

I am a jailhouse for horses, cows, goats,

animals needing guidelines

of where to go, where is forbidden

when grass is always greener

on the other side, only seen,

never touched by an animal hoof.

I square off, round out,

territory like neighbors

in subdivision yards

with six-foot fences

between yours and mine.

 

 

 

 

 

On Landing

 

Fog circulates around ocean

rock formations testing waters

as I stand on top wondering

if fog conceals more rock underfoot;

if ocean lurks to snatch me

out into eternal tide or smash me

head first into a stone face;

if speed plunges me through air

off cliffs towering the mystery

of when gravity stops,

how far below is the landing.

 

Or do I turn my back?

Allow the fog

to encircle me

like waves around

a boulder

until low tide,

lifting fog

leaves me alone

in solidarity.

 

 

 

 

 

Tree Trimmer Moments

 

Above tree trimmers chain saw

branches crack and thump

to the ground; an incautious

boy pretends he’s Superman

in flight, a lesson in gravity,

make-believe and reality.

 

The radio yells through the open

truck windows between

chain saw buzzes pulsing

through the neighborhood

once silent with yellow leaves

falling in butterfly flutters

all the way to the ground.

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.