Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Poetry of Reading Too Many Political Blogs

Mirror on a Warm Spring Evening
By Nordette N. Adams

I have lived half a century on this
green earth, once drizzled with God's love,
now brown, cracked, and withering.
The sun beats her flesh in early spring
like an angry lover, drunk on power.
The oceans eat her toes and fingers like acid.
I look ahead at the unknown country, and back
at the trodden path but like a nomad wracked
by senility forget why horizons comfort.
Vines grow gray and thorny in the distance,
surviving on unclean rain. A breeze rustles
brittle leaves to hiss a viper's song.
I venture into the dark wood, seeking
the River of Life, parting the wiry bush,
eye out for the clearing where I may recline.
The world is like an old woman, carrying us--
a stubborn, ungrateful child, a smart-mouthed
creature--we who shun playing well with brethren.
She has purpose but has been thwarted
by greedy mouths of those she loves,
shucked by her nature, her giving roundness.

© 2010 Nordette N. Adams

1 comment:

msladydeborah said...

:-)I like this poem.