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Caroline Misner Poems
A Hard Climb
The frill of trees jig their lady skirts about their knees, buckling under the weight of the wind’s hard approach. When we exhale, our breaths dangle,
Learning to Die
Death is not sudden, death does not grieve, Death takes a while to achieve. Death comes in layers; Death is the mouse
To An Alcoholic
I am your enabler. Here I find my awakening, a purpose to your dwelling, juggling excuses like a seasoned acrobat.
Dahlia in the Window
Pale and translucent as pink lemonade, the morning sun filtered its petals to pure lightness;
The Potential of Stars
They hold the power to pinch the sky, little eyes, a multitude so vast they outnumber us all who have ever lived and ever will;
The sun scoured the horizon until the sky bled, a scarlet strip of grit. We wandered through a valley where vacant swings dipped,
The old town buzzes and people swarm to finger the treasures offered from pushcart stalls, the golden apples and lumpy pears.
There is a crack in the clouds where sunbeams leak. If I stand beneath their lustrous rays will the sun shine done only on me?
Pray for Rain
It shouldn’t have gone on like this— the protracted days of dust that rises like steam from the roads, the pink-brown mist of grains
Poor fish who never made it to August in 1963. It was a good year, that year
A cardinal and wren twirl together among the branches of an alder;
I bring important news from the clinic. You know… The kingdom of green-walled waiting rooms
Trilliums in May
A milk bottle film coats the sky, the humpbacked hills bristle evergreen, tricorns white as arctic snow unfurl their brazen petticoats, stiff and starched.
The factory chimney hisses and fizzles, curling the edge of the sky, grey as ash; the buoyant air is filled with mist, spraying from the harbour where corroded
Comments about Caroline Misner
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Hard Climb
The frill of trees jig their lady skirts
about their knees, buckling
under the weight of the wind’s hard approach.
When we exhale, our breaths dangle,
rearranging syllables and accents
the Yanks still claim we carry.
The clouds recoil in pieces of time;
inch by inch they scud across the sky,
downy spools drawing in their lines.
The black hills ball against the blue,
splash their painted trees, golden
glowing corridors to wander through.
Dropped leaves assemble into cobblestones
of amber and scarlet upon the path,
carpeting the gnarled and ...