Exploring this Wednesday for Poetry
Michel Griffith pens words, phrases and themes with a subtle eloquence complemented by poignant realities. He walks along poetic avenues with a grace and understanding of nuances and impact of words spoken and those held silent. Enjoy his two poems.
Lived
Ran fast with scissors sharp
blood on her hands in her highest heels and the fur of a borrowed woman.
Scandalized a mother born not to bear shame
and rollicked a dad born not to bear regrets.
Never the reflection of anything,
she was always her own light.A muzzle flash shot to the heart,
a sonic boom harbinger and echo,
a hurricane to shake her family tree,
and blow away the ashes of every bridge she'd crossed.
Never inched toward anything, only ran
until there was no place left for her to go,this woman of so many stories.
A life lived loud until her unquiet death.
****
Moss
It
was me.
I
cut the tree in the woods you couldn’t hear falling;
you
were too far away.
Closer
now, I am calling to you – Can you hear?
I
will wait for you, wait for your answering call,
wait
amid these leaves and branches,wait.
Roots
may form, still I will wait.
Moss
can grow, wait, I wait.
What
will I hear?
Michael Griffith (photo provided) |
Michael Griffith
began writing poetry to help his mind and spirit stay healthy as his body
recovered from a life-changing injury. His poems and non-fiction articles have
appeared in print and online publications and anthologies. Working on the
release of two chapbooks, he resides and teaches near Princeton, NJ.
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