i don’t care how rough a day i had
when i see the golden hour sunset
painting the trees with happy light
and feel a cool breeze on my face—
all is suddenly and magically reset
heart and mind cleared of burdens
—so the gratitude has a place to be
—Terri Guillemets
Trickling down from branch to branch
Like a saffron avalanche,
Filtering through the sylvan gauze
As a frozen topaz thaws,
Lay, in puddles on the moss,
Golden solar, apple-sauce…
—Tom Prideaux (1908–1993), written in the 11th grade
From my highest hill
I watched for Antares.
Brief would be his glimmer
Where the long line of mountains
Duped the horizon
With vague, rambling mist.
And I shall never know
If that was Antares’
Eye on the earth-line,
Or the gleam of a lantern
The wild poet carried;
For God who saw both
Only laughs when I ask him.
—Olive Tilford Dargan (1869–1968), Lute and Furrow, 1922
shorter days seem a little ominous
shadows are becoming autumn’ish
—Terri Guillemets
The moon shines
into the dirty desert air
with a rusty opal halo —
Scorpius has lost his way
behind the thin clouds,
city glare, smoke, dust —
His heart shines in some far
better place — but not here
in this smoggy summer.
—Terri Guillemets
Earth tilts toward Winter
my heart goes tilty too
the summer-fever cools
to a more reflective hue
—Terri Guillemets
Standing in a silent still-dark February morning
Cool dewy grass grazes half-bare sandaled feet
Lo! Saturn arrives as Jupiter saddles Sagittarius
Mars burns red near the glowing crescent moon
Serpens slithers against a vaporous galaxy border
Antares winks green and gold, crimson and rust
As Scorpius swings its tail at the southern horizon
Libra starboard and upward of the crowded scene
Balancing askew over the poor impaled lone wolf
Ophiuchus a bystander in the busy celestial show
—Terri Guillemets
late winter and early spring blend and blur
in pleasant days and chilly nights
penetrating sun and gentle cool breezes
with stirrings of life, subtle and green —
mornings that light ever earlier rouse us, but
sunsets that still come in evening’s youth lull
—Terri Guillemets
sand-dust with cream
intensely mauve’d rust
velvety blue-grey-indigo —
layers of early winter’s
desert dawn horizon
—Terri Guillemets
Moonlight is a beautiful and comforting reminder that the sun is still out there somewhere.
—Terri Guillemets
October’s autumn
casts a gentle light
and a calm serenity
before the stark
barrenness of winter
is born to November
—Terri Guillemets
The glow of the moon is poetry
The blossoming of flowers is poetry
The blossoming of woman is poetry
The glow of woman is poetry —
and even more so, because
the light comes from within.
—Terri Guillemets
swirls of light
as morning blazed alive
the darkness left
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Maud Casey, The Man Who Walked Away, 2014