Linda Swift-Author
Romance-Women's Fiction-Short Stories-Poetry
POETRY PAGE - POEMS BY LINDA SWIFT
HUMAN SPEAKING
A collection of Biblical poems from
Willow Moon Publishing
SAND CASTLE
I watch you build
your castle in the sand
and think of other times.
Twelve summers now since I
first showed a child of four
how to shape a castle wall.
You build with slow deliberation
as the sand shadows grow,
your child-woman body
glistening in the sun.
Your friends have tired
of such a childish pastime
and lie beside me here,
reading movie magazines,
radio blaring sound
(but they are seventeen).
Even I grow weary watching
and doze; then you call
"It's finished."
Two young men pause,
express their admiration.
(I am not certain whether they
admire your work or you.)
Your friends rejoin you now
and soon five figures race
the wind to meet the water.
I watch you run,
your long hair flying,
without a backward glance
and add a whispered certainty,
"It's finished."
* * *
I COULD HAVE MADE A POEM
I sew soft pillows
the blue of a summer sky
and carefully stitch a fringe
around each square.
I spend an afternoon
adding dabs of color
to a bed where no one lies.
I could have made a poem
instead of pillows,
weaving vivid words
on drab pages to brighten
the unused corners of my mind.
But when you come home
you will admire the pillows
and I can prove where time went.
You never understand my poems
or my need to make then.
I like to think that is why
I made blue pillows.
you will admire the pillowsand I can prove where time went.You never understand my poemsor my need to make then.I like to think that is whyI made blue pillows.
COME WALK WITH ME
THROUGH FIELDS OF DAISIES AND ENJOY SUMMER'S BEAUTY.
HAIKU
Sun-browned girl of three
wearing swan raft upside down -
you won't drown. Will he?
* * *
Fat toad sits bug-eyed
under lighted bugwhacker
gulping roasted snacks
* * *
White puffs of cotton,
scattered water-laden clouds,
blotting blue silk sky
* * *
brown fur-covered links
three rabbits run in circles
chaining trees to bush
* * *
MATINEE PERFORMANCE
Beached boat,
graceful white sail
flapping in the wind,
leans toward water lapping
at the edge of land.
The staccato beat
of taut cloth slapping
echoes whitecaps breaking
gull wings clapping
just beyond the sand.
Sun strobe casting
silver sheen of light
catches, holds the final scene
of gulls in flight;
while loud above the din
the solo performer
a toe-dancer, tapping
is trapped onstage
as waves of applause
roll endlessly in.
