Sheila M. Taylor
Sheila M. Taylor Poems
when we look down
rain barrels and climb
trees and slide
down cellar doors and watch
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Words cannot explain why Gerald lives in isolation, on the street amidst abundance, while chilling winds envelop him.
Nor can they satisfy the cramping hunger that forces baby Rachel's pathetic whimper nor do they alleviate her pain.
Words are unable to rationalize the need to steal, to hurt, to maim or justify aggression against our fellow man.
Nor can they capture the moment when a ray of light touches a delicate rose as a hummingbird savours candied nectar within.
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The Best Poem Of Sheila M. Taylor
Childhood
when we look down
rain barrels and climb
trees and slide
down cellar doors and watch
ants build roadways and chase
crows and try to fly
and play with friends
and summer ends
we have corn roasts and stuke
green-feed and can
vegetables and put
jars in the cellar and go
to school and watch
geese fly south and shovel
grain and play in leaves
and fall ends
we ski behind old nags and build
tunnels in drifts and haul
coal and melt snow and
smell frozen clothes and lose
mists and watch snowflakes and
wonder where Jack Frost lives
and make ice cream
and winter ends
we ride on rafts and dig
water ditches and watch
streams run and pick
crocuses and fly
kites and clean
house and play
ball and set
hens and watch
bugs crawl and
spring ends.
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4/27/2024 10:38:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
