Poetry Corner
Below are some of the poems I've had published in Rational Magic. Some of them I've written in high school; others are more recent.
Swan Dreams and Stranger Things
Waiting for Spring --New!
Your Sweet Summer--Honorable Mention Winner in the 2003 Bards of Fortune Poetry Competition
After she was murdered,
She haunted her husband,
Pleading, “I’m so lonely;
You gave your soul to me.”
He sought her everywhere,
With fasting ,with madness,
Till his friends, death fearing,
Summoned the town shaman.
He dared the madman’s stare,
Felt his wrist, tugged his ring.
At last, the shaman spoke,
“It’s time for grievous action.
“This love’s too strong; entwined
Thus, she drags him to death.
To save his life, I must
Unmake this holy bond.”
Five friends held him; he screamed
As sacred silver knife
Shattered his wedding ring.
Tears flowed from hidden wounds.
He walks, he talks, he works;
He rubs his ring finger
And smiles only when
Lost shadows kiss his eyes.
Has rotted and been washed away;
Its neighbor nourishes offspring
I walk through diamonds
Where others see only air;
This is a problem.
Faint smudge of rainbow
Arcs incomplete to my sight;
Where has the rest gone?
Where every store’s a chain,
Hide me in city houses
Where every front’s the same,
Drive me down barren highways
That never saw a tree,
My body’s trapped in your world;
My heart and soul are free.
So you dare to think to know me,
Can tell every contour of my heart?
Think again, my dearest;
You’ve only seen a part.
Puzzle a picture of me,
Take pieces from this friend, that one;
The final piece is hidden;
I claim it for myself alone.
danced into town
last week,
Bringing sun,
spring breezes,
and warmth.
Cruel Winter
Banished her
with snow and ice.
She lives now in my blood and brains
And pounds to be released.
Through lightning and heavy rain
I heard a bird sing.
Sunday morning rose like eternity,
With time for omelets and toast.
Golden leaves without numbering
Fell in the fall forest,
And the sky was as blue as forever.
There was time for it all,
Even time for each other.
We needed no watches
On waterfowls’ schedules.
Why did Sunday evening
Return us to mortal time
And the accelerating heartbeat
Of desperately wasted hours?
Swan Dreams and Stranger Things
I wore my wings again last evening.
With feathers that sweep the stars from the sky.
I was strong and swift, ready for leaving
The dull towns where no one knows how to fly.
I stripped myself naked of hate and care
And other emotions, saving pure bliss
As the only one fit for the rare air
That in my folly I dreamed I would kiss.
But as I gave myself to indigo
Night, others set out to bring me back down.
They feared once I learned how their world was so
Small, I would leave them there in their drab town.
But of all their shots, only one flew true;
I was slain only by poisonous you.
Body heat radiating from my bare skin,
Until the evening brought the clouds.
I stood at the window after nightfall,
Saw the violent violet sky
Ripple gray,
An echo of intense white lights
Reflected on polished streets,
Heard the rhythm of the rain,
Felt one brother raindrop
Burst through the window
To kiss my forehead—
And was one with the storm.
Grey fog and bird calls,
Morning's false promise of calm;
I still hear the bombs.
Four puffed-up robins
In a bare tree and gray day.
What season is it?
And banished now the days of burnished gold;
My love, even the sweet summer must die.
Once, passion burned me fiercer than July;
Beloved, your lack of heat left me cold.
The sun has set too often in the sky.
Having learned that my love was based on a lie
Has destroyed the small hope I tried to hold.
My love, even the sweet summer must die.
Heartbroken so long, without tears to cry
Out my pain, I cannot be brave and bold.
The sun has set too often in the sky.
To your cruel flirtations I cannot reply;
My rejected love was too often told,
“My love, even the sweet summer must die.”
Understand this, then, when too late you try
To win me back; I’m past those days of old.
Your sun has set too often in my sky;
My love, even your sweet summer must die.
Copyrights 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 Sandra M. Ulbrich