Friday, March 21, 2008

My Own Poems and a Painting

A Rose in Politics

A rose is like a politician,

Full of promise of perfection,

on the surface true confection,

Until you're stuck
'til next election.
Published in The Oregonian Sept 22, 1974


Redeemed from Despondency

Gray sky staring down upon me,

Harsh winds tearing at my soul,

fingers of ice creeping through my veins,

Vague shaddows grab and pull,

Tiny flicker of light above,

Hope comes dancing on a sun beam,

How can I be freed from hopelessness?

Surely unreal--it must be a dream.

Warmth is flowing into my heart,

Fear departing as the shadows flee,

I'm drenched in love's sweet light,

The chains fall off and I'm set free!


Autumn countryside

sheltered by the mountain tall,

warmed by Summer, turning Fall,

Winter's frost fingers will

steal the color from the hills

golden orange to silver white

like blazing sunset to misty night.



Oh slender hope,

how bright and flighty a butterfly you do appear,

and yet, although you might take flight

at any moment and leave me

cold and hungry,

I gently, slowly reach my hands out to you

and pray you will never leave me,

But, as my fingertips touch your delicate wings---

gold dust flies

and you are gone!

Hours pass in solitude, the silence

only broken by the endless throbbing

of my broken heart.

Suddenly, I see a flutter of gold

and the soft, sweet creature

lands on my nose

and spreads her golden magic

over my face,

Until I awaken to find

my dreams fulfilled,

my heart healed,

and my patience rewarded.

poems by R. F-M

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