Sunday, June 9, 2013


Swords of green
Piercing upwards through the membrane
Of mother earth

Swords that slip their sheaths
In cold black clods
Of winters reign

Then bud and bloom
Early trumpeters
Heralds of the spring

Sun’s raindrops
Splashed upwards
Bright yellow

Yellow lights
From long ago

Memories of child's
Bright yellowed hopes
And unheralded possibilities

A past where it was hoped
The sword of green manhood
Would warm maternal mother’s whims

The daffodils of spring
Are bitter sweet
For they remind

Of hopes yellowed with disappointment
Of maternal love

That in winter’s reign remained.

1 comment:

  1. Another great poem ... thanking you for joining my site David.