Sunday, July 5, 2009

God's Time

Won't
somebody

make me
your project?

Sick
thoughts

tongue in cheek.

Not for
the dishonest

perhaps a thief?

Who would steal away
from self

to control another

an astronaut elf

A sculptor

a farmer

a mother,

a lover

It isn't like
I want to be
planted

just cultivated.

Arrange my branches

Allow me to scream

and howel too

Just someone
to listen

maybe it's true

How does one grow
when not reflected

how to be sure
that it's not

all affected?

I've waited so long,
how can this be?

For sound or charm
elusive, that's me

I'm ripe now
I tell you

come shake my tree,

the rotten and pungent

come first

help me

break free

Then come the buds
soft on the vine

watch them all
flower

I tell you
it's time.
A.S.
7/5/09

2 comments:

  1. reading your last poems
    a night of extreme heat, hard to sleep, a refreshing zone
    this is great!
    fantastico...

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  2. Gracias Fernanado,

    Enjoy the heat is might just bake you a new crust of an idea to write about...;-) I know bad joke. It rains everyday here. So glad to have your eyes resting upon my words.

    In Light,
    Amy

    ReplyDelete