Tag Archives: pines

whirled into the past

watching tireless winds
sway stripped trees and pines still green:
oh one’s salad days

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2016

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caught in the squall, Snug Harbor

the wild raindrops kiss
maples   oaks   pines   the willow
ripplets roil the pond

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2014

haiku – homeward bound [Interstate 81, Tennessee]

snow    pines    golden dusk
heading northeast    sun behind
night conceals the land

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2013

Peasant

My bowl of rice is spiced
with bitterness and sorrow.
In every kernel, I taste the murdered land.
I crack my teeth on shrapnel.
In silence I cull memories and dreams…

Glassy eyes of little fried fish
fix me from the wooden dish.
In my tea there drift images
of blasted trees, of children scarred,
of women praying to be barren.
The rain bleeds upon the rooftops,
upon the river and the fields.
Cool, the soft patter of rain
after the studied debauch of bombers.
Beyond the doorway, in the mud,
a sole flower praises gentle waters…

Mountain, sinew gone to stone.
Clouds, my ghostly eyes.
My heart beats still in crickets’ song.
My blood, thick ooze within the pines.
Blossoms, rooted in my brain.
Bamboo stands, my bones…

…this change of body, this new self –
conceived between a button and a thumb.
You made of me an ash, a powder, a speck
to feed the hills, the poppies and pines.
Oh, heaven help me if, next time,
you change me to mere wind-tossed dust…

Heaven help you if I, this dust, this mite,
be not felt a beam tearing at your eye!

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2011