LONDIS CARPENTER Poems

Bruce the Spruce was a Christmas tree
He lived on Christmas Farm.
Each night he dreamed that he could bring
Cheer into someone's home.
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When I was a child I would watch the sky
And see the clouds go rolling by.
And as I looked I would try to find
Faces to match with a nursery rhyme.
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Of those among mankind I most admire
Are such who've overcome the saddest grief,
And men who've pulled themselves out of the mire
After their lives had crashed upon the reef.
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Within your eyes I've glimpsed the jasper sea.
And braved to search out secrets hidden there,
Mysteries of you that now belong to me.
I've drawn them from the deep with utmost care.
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Rusty the rattlesnake lived in a log
Down by the river, with Gary the frog.
Rusty and Gary both liked to play
In the shade of the reeds and the ooze of the clay.
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Do you think a tree has memories? If so, what might they be?
Beneath their spreading limbs do they recall things done by me?
Do they hear conversations, understand the things we say?
Do they remember secrets whispered, Or the games I used to play?
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There's a bad stretch of road on Route Sixty-Six,
That I've often heard truck drivers say,
Is silent and bare, with a chill in the air,
Where travelers have oft' lost their way.
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Great poetry is like a precious stone,
Found mingled with mere rocks amid the gravel.
Stunning in its own unique expression,
Unmarred by wasted words and senseless babble.
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I have secrets to sing to the wealthy
I have riches to share with the poor
But the wealth that I bring and the secrets I sing
Are but moot till you open the door
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Flying on silent wings and sightless eyes,
with bat-like stealth exploring evening skies,
hidden high upon a branch of leafy twigs,
she fastens to a tree her silver eggs.
...