Poetry Break


Inspired by the Holy Father, I type these much-less-worthy works. But we all work in our own ways.

Ten Views from a Summer Boat

Moonlight on the stream's
inky surface, whitewash waves
ripple toward the shore.

Mosquito harbor
the wooden boat
alone, broken ripples

The slap, slap,
slap waves
that have not
found their way

Where are you
in the flickering
night? Where now?

Rope trailing
weeds in water,
underneath all.

Even at night
even on water
shadows of shadows
whiteness worn to silver.

water and wood,
the gentle slip of oars.
Where are we?

Candle-gathered unknown
spirits, paper boats
from chrysanthemum night
suddenly spring dive
in the memory of the river.

It is said the poet drunk
reached out to embrace the moon
and found himself
wed to darkness
as how could he not?

Water washes reeds in still
slow eddies
In pools so quiet they
have the
memory of ages, water so deep
it bleeds.

© 2003 Steven Riddle

Bookmark and Share



About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on April 28, 2003 5:06 PM.

Ruth Burrows Sr. Ruth Burrows was the previous entry in this blog.

Revelation in Easter As promised, is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.

My Blogroll