the ineffable love i appreciate
does not carry permission
if what we feel, is a fraction of what we celebrate
time modelled illusions, break tradition
from the canal where i took my first breath
to the mountains of this playground of life
what satisfies my hunger, under pressure,is my pen,
during this distance of gargantuan space
what second bite
do we need at the apple
my appetite is not practical
with my own happiness
it is Epicurean
with your today's tomorrow
(C)2001 Liz Rolls M.
november 27, 2001
BEHIND THE MIRROR
It is the dawn of my life where my body, a puppet
Pulled by nerves and veins wakens
By the sword of sunlight against my curtain.
It's harder now to compose this body into song
Harder to find breath's rhythm and rhyme.
Some would say way down the road of life
And that I should be thankful. Are they nuts!
Behind the mirror I find myself looking better
Framed in silver with delicate carvings diffusing my portrait.
When I look into the mirror a
Steven king character looks back.
This is where personal makeup takes over,
The bathroom artists pallet
A foundation to build myself upon, to look younger.
Hell no! Simply masking daily routines,
Blending with the cities color.
Still another dawn will soon be here, and
I shall wash away the mask
One day I may treasure the delicate carvings of life
(C)2001 Donna Allard 11 26 2001
member of the Canadian Poetry Association