In A Yellow Sky

3 Comments

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  • Family

    In A Yellow Sky

    ECONOMY

    In a yellow sky my hope finds an anchor;
    Recycling faces and offerings from hearts archived
    Of those concerned and well meaning.
    Like a camels cache it soothes the thirsty mind

    Do you hear tenacity in mowers whirr
    Or an ongoing comfort in the click click of
    careful gardeners shears?

    I sort.
    Unwanted mail is determinately silent
    ...Try to keep it well unread
    Let it speak to someone still in the chase
    Let my eye be stayed on a yellow sky.

    The neighbors dog set in new light,
    Casts three- D shadows, busying itself in a world of smells.
    While the aroma of morning coffee mingles with earthiness;
    And brown leaves look to bed down
    for the winter.

    Unrest might claim tomorrow
    but today is where I live and it doesn’t taste like fun
    so I prefer mine with a drop of golden sun.
    And cream and sugar too.


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    WordSlinger commented on In A Yellow Sky

    01-08-2010

    I hear ya, This is alive, you captured the day well, like living in it, ty WS

    NevillePark

    01/10/2010

    Like an actor who is self impressed that he can fake a foreign accent, I (as one who lives down poverty lane anyways) am not subject to the pressure of the downturn but I can easily try on the shoes of the day.

    wheelsal commented on In A Yellow Sky

    06-15-2009

    full of sense, sound, smell, and images that a poem should transcend you into. It is lightened with cream and sugar for a little humor. Love it.

    NevillePark

    06/17/2009

    Thank you Sal - have yourself a sunny one.

    lightcourier commented on In A Yellow Sky

    05-24-2009

    I really liked the Onomatopoeia of the mower whirring and the clippers clicking. That was really neat. To find tenacity and comfort in these routine and regular sounds is an interesting phrase. Your work is complex and visual. thanks!

    NevillePark

    06/17/2009

    Thanx

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

    NevillePark’s Poems (38)

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