Most people know I don't like to write poetry. I love to read it, but not writing it. I was going through my files from high school and found my poetry anthologies and thought I'd share my teacher's favorites.
* * *
Home Coming
Come here and bring thy child
Bade the man in the shadows
Why is it that your husbands lets
You bring this child out in the
Chill of night?
My husband is at sea and has been
For three years. Were he here
My child would not be out
In this sickening fog.
Do you still love him or
Have you given your heart to another?
Why is it you ask this of me?
What business is it of yours
If I love my husband still?
Why is it Woman that thou speaketh
To me with such vehement?
When you know not to whom you speak.
Then step forth into the light
Of the lantern and show your face
The man stepped forth to reveal
A wind worn face of a sailor.
The woman reached for the man
With tears in her eyes.
I am glad you did not
Think me a lowly beggar
And pass me by.
Never! Had I passed you by
My son may never have known his father
* * *
The Baker
The Baker
Is a strong woman
Her arms are broad
Thick from years of
Working
With the dough
Mixing
Kneeding
Spinning round and round
Rolling out
Rising
Turning golden brown
* * *
Space
Stars
Grains of rice
Wedding bells
Falling sands
Changing times
Future is the past
Speed of light
Distant planets
Speckled skies
* * *
Freedom-Hill
Along a lonely highway
Lies a forgotten town
Half buried by vines of ivy
Half fallen to the ground
The rotting buildings lay in tribute
To those who lived and died.
An old man walks along the faded streets
Weaving among the wasting rubble
He stops atop the hill
Where his beloved lies
Surrounded by their friends and family
In the ramshackle cemetery
On a bench he sits
Remembering how it came to be
Cholera, or maybe typhoid,
What it was, they never knew,
The doctor was the first to go.
In the final light of the setting sun
Freedom Hill's last man lies down
Beside his wife and family
As the deadly disease lulls him to
His final sleep.
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