Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Three Poems by Susan Dale

Reincarnated from Macbeth’s witches
Three seagulls with hooked beaks
Beady eyes and clone feet
Hover together for warmth
On the frozen lake.
With gray wings of triumph,
Another seagull, aloft and soaring
Catches a chattering wind
To hang suspended
In skies of aqua dreams
Where stretch the clouds
Of ghost feathers
And the strains of a pale, winter sun.
Violent waves frozen
as they crest and crash
into foamy moors that heave and fall
And stretch towards far-off horizons.
January 2
I heard a phantom wind
whistling in treetops
lost in the milky mists
of a twilight that floats
through parchment skies
hanging heavy
with tissue-paper clouds
drop raindrops
of gossamer glass
on the moon that nods in passing
to a pale sun
sinking in silver skies
To meet silver waters below
February 5, ‘07
Steps of twilight
Down to the cellar of night
Silent, dark, starless
With weightless dreams
Spinning inside of me
In webs of silk
To fill dawn with taboos
And vapors of fears
Daybreak painting over morning
With colors of long snow
And solace with warm arms
A vaulted ceiling - afternoon
soaring above the walls
of white-plaster snow
Susan’s poems and fiction are on Eastown Fiction, Tryst 3, Word Salad, Pens On Fire, Ken *Again, Hackwriters, Feathered Flounder, and Penwood Review. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.

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