I watched alone by sunlit edge
of pond and meadow touching hands
those flirting leaves that twitched and swirled
gold dessication incomplete
while water ruffling to shore
beneath bowed willows’ trailing arms
pushed tender shards of russet brown
to curl contentedly in reeds
no harsh sounds to be heard that day
for everything seemed hushed and still
but autumn whispered in the breeze
and summer hummed a sad farewell
2017 © Lesly Frances Finn
these days there is a shadow on my heart
a stone so weighty breathing is suppressed
such sadness from this time we’ve been apart
and memories of times when we were blessed
no sleep while eyes keep searching in the night
your warmth no longer felt here at my side
without your arms to hold me nothing’s right
no comfort to be had for tears I’ve cried
why did you have to be the one to go
how could I be prepared for such a day
you’ve taken secrets only you could know
I’m left with all these words I didn’t say
dear love, I do so long for it to be
no longer ‘I’ but once more back to ‘we’
=============================
This cold, cold earth
last resting place
I heard your voice
you kissed my face
then all was gone
without a trace
in cold, cold earth
This hard, hard ground
no need for sight
for those who lie
in this dark night
not to see again
the sun, the light
in hard, hard ground
Yet comes this sound
there is a sigh
like wind in trees
or the faintest cry
of a flock of birds
in a cloudless sky
yet comes this sound
Away I fly
2016 © Lesly Frances Finn
a rhymer’s style is one that’s neat
following form and counting feet
free-versers claim their way is better
no need to follow to the letter
some poems only seem to ramble
endless screeds all in a tangle
esoteric styles depress me
grandiloquence just don’t impress me
so what’s the best thing I can do
(the point of this iambic stew)
– read those I love and worry less
write from the heart, not to impress
2017 © Lesly Frances Finn
What became of whats-her-name
the one who hung around last fall?
Or was it spring, I can’t recall?
Seemed quite sad and melancholic.
We thought she might be alcoholic.
Remember her?
She was with us at your brothers ‘do’
And we talked of how our nails grew?
Well, WE talked, she listened.
Or seemed to.
Then she cried, her mascara ran.
Describe her? I don’t think I can
No, never saw her with a man
Yes! That’s it, you’ve got her now
The one who said you were a cow
to laugh at her that time.
Hey, WOW!
Gassed herself? And her cat?
Why ever do a thing like that?
So ….. who’s now living in her flat?
