Meaning is not my creation.
This poem is yours now, read into it
what you wish, what you hear
of echoes. The colour of the sky
may predict the future;
clouds may have illuminated thoughts.
I write only what I see, what I cannot say as well as I wish to.
Like an oriole’s high notes falling from the oak tree this morning,
or the pebble of your voice dropping through the phone
at 4:27 pm; the ripples of who is gone now,
and who is left behind.
We each write our own story.
We must each find our way. It is all meaningless,
unless we believe something.
POETRY PRIMER | A book of elementary principles
A limited edition of hand-bound, signed and numbered poetry/art books. This premier collection of Lesley-Anne’s lyric poetry, several previously published in literary journals, incorporates Dick and Jane primary reader flash cards from 1950’s Okanagan primary school classrooms. Don’t miss this exclusive opportunity.
Order your copy, HERE.