THREE POEMS
By Jeannette Harris
Adanta
The stars are suns
and every one has planets
orbiting, unseen.
One is mine, or yours,
or maybe more --
pasts we can't remember,
futures we won't glean.
This fall, like other seasons,
touches and leaves
for someplace grave,
lies in mneumonic history
as spirits sigh their
ghostly truth.
A Writer's Sigh
The answer will not be in the mail today.
May all these tears somehow clear
a morning's blackboard mind
of thoughtless scribbles,
missed equations, statistics
unhelpful, bleating
against reality's sphere,
so prayer might guide
a graveled chalk
that learns to bear
lightning
in love's crystal ball.
Dream Catcher
She stares into water as sure as her eyes,
sparkling a pure aquamarine,
transparent to the broken shells
and pitted rocks
where crawfish swarm
and line the depths of Vivien.
Dark with helgrammites
lying in wait
from under each stone disturbed,
Vivien, the enchantress,
mistress of Merlin.
Indian spirits step to her banks
offering polished beads and shining seeds,
baskets braid with the vines of wild grapes.
Ancestral ghosts from the land, from the house,
dance on the rugged sands of her soul.
Where she looks, flowers grow,
Energy streams from her mind.
END
Jeannette Harris, from Luray, Virginia, created "A Country Rag" at http://www.geocities.com/countryrag, an online publication that explores and celebrates country, especially Appalachian, culture through diverse poetry, short stories, graphics, photography, topical essays, regional cuisine and links.
