The storm had passed
wreaking havock
so it seemed
'til the birds roused from their nests
clouds made way for sunshine
blades of grass lushed the fields
a gentle breeze heaved a sigh of relief
so I thought.
before I realized it was my breath
hope had survived anguish.

I crossed my heart
feeling blood flow through my veins again
so it felt
watching the rapids rush through ravines
I whistled to the tunes of the river song
then paused to listen to the echoes
but there were none.

Crunch of fresh night frost
welcomes tired old feet back home,
heralding new winter.

A blank page staring
challenging me to fill it
with words of beauty

Mind searching for words
and thoughts to write in order
to form an image

Pen hand writes with care
to space and spell correctly
an eye-pleasing work

Then the moment comes
to share thoughts and words aloud
awaiting response

As We Age!

As age catches up,

I am now getting a feeling

We must write shorter poems

I won't say crisp,

Lest it once again causes,
A slip

And
In the minds of the elite

It gives them a chance
To lisp

.

from the ground
the ceiling looks so much wider
from the ground
its cracks seem much finer

the paint peels -
minute flags, off-white surrender;
the paint peals -
egg shells of heavy footed plunder...

revelation fall free
on this soul that has been bound
revelation fall free,
release this pretender from the ground

.

a pair of eyes
hopeful
anticipative
distraught
hysterical
red.

a wandering heart
a clustered mind
an agitated being
blue.

a mutual friend
confused, as me
distant, as the sun
constant, as life
necessary, as oxygen
yellow.

an angel
pure, as water
lighter than air
pretty, like her
white.

a future
-a muddled mess
a simple complication
uncertain, as death
hopeful, as eyes.
as a pair of eyes.
vague, and unclear
black.

whilst walking down some
street one day

a fellow came up to me -- began
a conversation

of many things we spoke
of life in general --
and life in specific --
he looked at me after a time
with
an odd view askance

I was crazy -- he told me
I was driving him crazy -- he said

I winked one wink
and rejoined, "I needn't drive you
crazy, my good sir, you're
within walking distance
of that particular destination."

I walked on down the road.

"WINTER'S TOUCH"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 6th November 2010.

Not snow 
but frost with wings 
of glittering silver 
stir the grasses, roots, 
and dying leaves with white, 
in night's lamp-lit glow; 
they sparkle, diamonds,
rich beyond compare, 
their stiffened forms
made sculptures 
by the air, 

That vain bone is longer'n
both your arms,
worse'n Kathy Lee
and her put on charms.

Pretentiously caring,
with your hair slicked back,
but that magazine smile
highlights empathy's lack.

Those give and take feelings,
you think to display,
they're not fooling anybody
... not today.

Hint of beginnings of oppressive, dry heat
pushed on easterlies
stirring the winter icy still
to sluggishly resist
onslaughts of snugness against its chill.

Threatening the warmth with cooling water
rushing from the west to support the cold
woolly black blankets of power
whipping the air below to rattle leaves
into a frenzy that sounds a lot like laughter.