~ Delta Poetry Review ~

Black Bayou Meditation

I stroll through green gold atmosphere of dappled woods warmed by April’s sun. A feeling that I’ve traveled here before. Not yesterday. Another time, another place. A hundred years ago? But here.

Who was I then? What did I like? This feeling, a curiosity of sorts. A puzzlement, though not uncomfortable.

Transcendent moments maybe—skipping back and forth from then to now and back again. Time-traveled richness of why and when and where, just beyond a conscious reach.

Maybe my answer is

                                       Soul transcends
                                                     All.
                                                            Everywhere.

Dove’s Dawn

A single coo floats on morning mist, answered by an echoed refrain
across the way.
Ancient oaks, their heaviness outlined by resurrection fern,
and Spanish moss
draped like old men’s beards
surround
a home that’s seen its share of life and love and wars—
stand testament to its history and lore.
Grey clouds above the cooing doves, the stillness of a sunken garden
where lavenders and pinks abound.
Around a hundred years of well-worn paths, where deer and rabbits
still stir among the ancient souls
that float along on morning mist—as cooing doves
soar and sing, and light upon a twisted branch.
I sit on garden bench, pondering the gentle breeze of memories
floating through the peaceful wood.

Cat’s Claw

Like vines winding, twisting over blooming bushes, thick-trunked trees—
she grows her wants into lives of others, sucking energy from her hosts.
With a smile on her face—her claws, like thorns—puncture, tear emotions.
Kitten soft lies purr, “I bring truth and principle to light.”
Truth is hard to hear, she says with knowing looks.
She squeezes discontent and confusion, smothers happiness like weeds choking alyssum,
wilting honey-scented beauty into putrid, festering ooze.
Her tears come later—not for remorse but in anger for not getting her way.
Shallow statements of doing better. People don’t understand.
But people do understand Evil—in all its guises.