It’s too stunning to be dying;
to even touch dying still leaves
a sense of true solace that grieves
me as it fades with time’s passing.
-Lynne
Tag Archives: Poetry
Four Lines
Who catches? Is someone coming?
The world snaps back hocus-pocus,
eyes instead of the eye focus.
Is that dying? It’s too stunning.
-Lynne
Four Lines
White bursts while the eye watches.
Transfixed, floating, the mind reviews
choices, regrets, what’s left to do.
Is someone coming? Who catches?
-Lynne
Four Lines
Eye turned prism sees light reversed,
spread colors returned to whole white.
Look at this! Look at this!…this sight,
while the eye watches white burst.
-Lynne
Four Lines
Into that good night gently ease,
the line is wrong, our night is light.
Closed eyes see not dark but pure white,
light reversed, eye turned prism sees.
-Lynne
Four Lines
I yearn for the colorless light,
bright, bright until beatific.
Time to muse my life’s specifics,
gentle ease into that good night.
–Lynne
Four Lines
I like words’ sound more than meaning,
but quatrains are not just rhythms.
Poetry’s sense shines through prisms,
split light makes colors for yearning.
-Lynne
Four Lines
The fourth line’s “murdered” changed the rhyme
and moved the meaning fast forward.
What lines am I moving toward,
with more regard for sound than time?
-Lynne
Four Lines
The un-sweet iced tea I ordered,
was too bitter for a burger.
These lines are boring this herder,
change lanes use the near rhyme “murdered.”
-Lynne
Four Lines
None of the joes appeal to me,
if you want coffee I don’t care.
Just don’t glare at me with your stare,
when I order un-sweet iced tea.
–Lynne
the crafty sisters 