Your Favorite Poems

Hollylane · 08-14-2012, 11:59 PM

Creek Walk
by Sarah M. Wells

Wading in the river current
pulling me in like
sliding under covers—
I become part of the riverbed, sediment
blending with my skin. I am woven
with wild grasses on banks,
molded to the surface of earth
in perfect curves, body fluid, rooted.
I could be washed away with a little rain.
What trickles harmless around me now
exposes roots of ancient trees
that lean toward light,
grow sideways to keep from sliding.
They will join the rapid flow,
deteriorate with me and we will deposit
in a delta with every other swallowed figure
from upriver. I dip my fingers in,
feel the stream make room for me.
I will share in this shifting
of earth—dirt loosened
until the roots give way.

Hollylane · 08-18-2012, 07:00 AM

Old Houses

by Robert Cording

Year after year after year
I have come to love slowly

how old houses hold themselves—

before November's drizzled rain
or the refreshing light of June—

as if they have all come to agree
that, in time, the days are no longer
a matter of suffering or rejoicing.

I have come to love
how they take on the color of rain or sun
as they go on keeping their vigil

without need of a sign, awaiting nothing

more than the birds that sing from the eaves,
the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.

08-14-2012, 11:59 PM	#1
Hollylane Practically Lives Here How Do You Identify?: . Preferred Pronoun?: . Relationship Status: . Join Date: Jun 2011 Location: . Posts: 11,495 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 34,694 Thanked 26,362 Times in 5,875 Posts Rep Power: 21474862	Creek Walk by Sarah M. Wells Wading in the river current pulling me in like sliding under covers— I become part of the riverbed, sediment blending with my skin. I am woven with wild grasses on banks, molded to the surface of earth in perfect curves, body fluid, rooted. I could be washed away with a little rain. What trickles harmless around me now exposes roots of ancient trees that lean toward light, grow sideways to keep from sliding. They will join the rapid flow, deteriorate with me and we will deposit in a delta with every other swallowed figure from upriver. I dip my fingers in, feel the stream make room for me. I will share in this shifting of earth—dirt loosened until the roots give way.

08-18-2012, 07:00 AM	#2
Hollylane Practically Lives Here How Do You Identify?: . Preferred Pronoun?: . Relationship Status: . Join Date: Jun 2011 Location: . Posts: 11,495 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 34,694 Thanked 26,362 Times in 5,875 Posts Rep Power: 21474862	Old Houses by Robert Cording Year after year after year I have come to love slowly how old houses hold themselves— before November's drizzled rain or the refreshing light of June— as if they have all come to agree that, in time, the days are no longer a matter of suffering or rejoicing. I have come to love how they take on the color of rain or sun as they go on keeping their vigil without need of a sign, awaiting nothing more than the birds that sing from the eaves, the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.