New poems by KJ Hannah Greenberg.

 

Growth

 

And again I aspire,

To bring myself higher,

To wing away, set sail.

Anon, my dear dreams,

Restored, so it seems,

If ambition’s fully derailed.

 

Evening’s effervescent breeze,

Gifts sweet, simple liberties,

To beautifully plumed birds.

And grafts tight readers’ words,

With pearly petal drops;

Pink, orange, probably white

Rots when realizing treasure’s

Relative worth births pretend worlds,

Also dried blossoms as keepsake volumes

 

Yesterday, I pulled my pen across a page

Forsaken, even orphaned bits deigned

Fantastic things, brought along

Delicate imaginings;

Your likeness lay in fragile pieces

 

Long before they taught me how to catch a raven,

Watch a dolphin blue fish swimming blues,

Recall clouds, I learned that optimists are very busy souls

Deciding in which keys we sing our common grace.

 

Good talking in public needs good thinking in private

Educational elitism suits only the hegemony.

 

 

 

Heart’s Preamble (a droighneach)

 

These cold-feet Decembers,

Resolve to remember,

Select April afternoons,

When hearts’ preamble

Meant to surrender livingroom

Romances kindled, though belated dreams.

Stances unguided beside movements

Unchecked, elated bound sentiments, united

Two parts merged. Such union

Commanded fresh promise,

Retained wishes, found hope’s

Dominion upholds fidelity’s bliss.

 

 

 

Bodies Roll

 

Bodies roll, their penurious features compelling more than economic

Platforms. Rather, cultural plateaus get blanketed together by oblates, clerks,

Dollar store managers, also anodynes manufactured in garages or in large lofts.

They roil for purposes of staying bilious conditions, fallen limbs, and rotten teeth.

 

Putative rabbits breed like nobody’s business, their obeisance pain

Expressed in tufts of hair, large litters, maybe also torpid guard dogs.

Consider that when tyros mind the store, beggars’ alacrity, pimples, sores,

Like new-fangled protests, make short work of all available social workers.

 

Those conditions, in turn, encourage the nesting of perspacious eels.

Slithery sorts tend to enjoy flitting among other, lesser, unstable stations.

Seemingly, only conterminously, such invite conflict, upturn civilizations,

Make hazards from twee, worn string, sometimes soggy newspaper logs.

 

If I were to proposition old goats, seek refuge among picayune heroes, cry a bit,

The resulting manners of dance, fireworks, lubricants, would undue me.

(Praetorianism remains underrated except in the lairs of Komodo dragons,

Gray wolves, culpeo foxes, ospreys, goonches, and used car salesmen.)

Rate this poetry.

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