Susan Lindsley, click here
to update your web pages on AuthorsDen.
Dreaming of home, my yesterplace.
Dreams of Yesterplace
I heard the rooster crowing in the frigid winter air,
Calling like an echo buried in my soul somewhere,
Calling up the memories of the dawns so long ago,
Summers of the peafowl and the winter's silent snow,
Dawnings when the cattle feaasted quietly on the lawn
Chewing up the flowers ere the rooster crowed at dawn,
Mornings when the earth itself was lifted up on ice
That fell beneath my footsteps like some donimoes or dice,
Mornings in the summer when the air was hot and dry
And pagan dances only left a hot and cloudless sky,
Morning when the winter lost its grip upon the hills
To the white of dogwoods and the gold of daffodils.
So on this winter dawn when all the trees are naked laces
I decorate my morning with my dreams of yesterplace.
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Z McClure
|Your poetry is such a delight to read, Susan. I hope you keep on writing and writing...and I shall keep on reading and reading!
Thanks for sharing your gift with all of us. This is why I love poetry so much.
|Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan
|again, very nice work!|
|Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
|Who would not want to walk with you down memory lane, where scenes are so vivid and beautiful. Victor|
|Reviewed by Joyce Hale
|A beautiful write, Susan - nostalgic, beautiful, and a little lonely and sad to me, for the times that we'll never see again. Well done.
|Reviewed by Marjorie Coogle (Reader)
|Great write. Such mental imagery.|