PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

How should I greet you,

yesterday's joy,

draped in vines that are

lyrics without sound,

something about letting go

without calling it a death,

but the doorway to life . . .

You gave me some idea of how soft

the love of God must be.

And that was too much to ask of a cat.

Now all I can give you is lacy rain

and your ivy bed with its 

nourishing green song 

and the scent

of spice and holiness. 

Just for today I will 

be like the clouds 

that are swallowed in stillness,

then appear somewhere else

because change is the one 

thing they do,

so they do it 

with everything they are—

simmering dragons, misty potential,

unformed worlds.

Yes, like that. 

The music of your sleep is unbreakable,

heavier than the marble storm

that splits the western sky

into angels and doom.

If I could do only one thing,

in this moment,

it would be to love

the shadows

as much as the light,

till light is all there is.

It's all so clear through

a veil of rain. 

I pick some violets,

dripping with desire that

their short lives be more 

than jewels and 

royalty

and place them on your

glistening stone.

They are broken, then formless,

then cleansed. 

Patricia Joan Jones