Hebesphenomegacorona

All Writings are © Derrick Tyson

Walking out into the yard, a squirrel

bickers from atop a swayful tree

at me. I imagined it landing on my head,

biting at my big ears making them tiny.

I reached for the mail, fingers smelled

like newspaper later in the kitchen

as I warmed up leftovers. The earth

is made of leftovers, but not just anyone

can see them. Standing several feet away

from a bright green tree I let the wind

teach me about memory. I squinted as

hard as possible, saw a praying mantis

feeding on a muted blank insect.

When I lean back into this chair, it squeaks

like small-talk; as if it were a built-in

programmed language.

My heart is oiled by time and patience,

but too many virtures are wearing thin.

Look closely into someone’s eyes and

you can see their imagination.

The problem with certain people is that

they don’t have poetry in their souls.

posted by: DerrickTyson at 10/07/08 14:45 | link | comments (1) |
poetry, poem

Comments:

#1  14 October 2008 - 10:54

 

I am not surprised that your post was featured. Many of the visuals born of your words are comforting, somehow familiar, but seen through a new perspective - rather like a favorite stuffed-animal toy which you unexpectedly come across in the attic and when you see it, you see it through different eyes.

RomaCittaEterna

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