Six Poems - Patrick Sean Lee (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

Love Vows

If I were a doctor
I’d search the
Early evening shadows
For the perfect spleen for you
Because I love you.

If you were my midnight pussycat
I’d prowl the alleys—
Engage the enemy
In the trashcan bottoms
Share the fishhead prize with you
Because I love you.

Even if you were a cockroach
I wouldn’t step on you
(Though I love the sound
of crackling shells).

No, I’d toss a nice
Fresh plate of garbage
In your favorite corner…
Because I love you.


TREEING

Slowly sat the trees
Way down into the earthman
Drinking
All their tales to
in him…

Oaktree nearly through the
Top of sky
To God who gave him largely body
Is kindly most polite to all
As
Willow bending arms and eyes
To earthman
Praise warmly winter
Root rest most
Most ancient ever tree
The greenest sucked the smiles
And something of infinity
From off the wind of God
To sing the sweetly
est
In evening inviting all to earthman share.


CHILDREN


Little children awaken not
Searching for a reason why,
Only for new windmills to pursue.

Older children open their eyes
To puppy loves lost yesterday.

The oldest children
Wish not to wake at all.


POEM

I say mostly that
Today was a little
Spring shower…
And I the earth,
You a blade of sunshine.


CHANGING OF THE GUARD

Light the dark, the night moon
August comes within the sleepy earth.
September soon the cool
Will November splash the sky
With snow and moon.
August long dead grows upon the east
(not dead or even dying).

Walk me fields across, dear feet
Of ice December moon…
We hide up under leaky tree roofs,
Waving at the sky.

At last at least we’re off poor
Frozen feet in warm bed lying
Out of December moonsight
Snow and wind a racing
Beautifully
Good evening.


COMING OF THE EVENING

Evening has laid bare her scarlet belly
Across the west of skies.
The great lumps of stone mountains
Begin to close their caves to light.

Certainly the roaring old sun has been
Set a flying by the summer moon,
And armies of tiny stars have begun
The quickening process
Of dispersing trailing echoes.

Four-O’Clocks have drawn their
Quiet smiles inward, shunning silent
Battle cries, for solitude and sleep.
For deep green and solitude.

Oh…

It’s evening, full and peaceful.
The only casualties begin to burst
As final firedroppings
Down upon the grave of earth.

The greatly-voiced moon begins
To sing silver light, which works
Its magic, weaving broken soldiers
Into the entourage of fireflies…

But the evening wears itself away…

A sea of writhing brilliance
Leaps upon the unprotected back of
.

Text: (c) Patrick Sean Lee, 2010
Publication Date: 12-08-2010

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