When powers she wields
river she breaks homes
floods paddy fields

Swords of rains
swells her hurt pride
boils her veins

Vengeful she brims
breaks the lock gate
cultivator's dreams

Gone is sweet flow
in the moonlight
soft silver glow

Simmers her soul
raging red hot
she burns like coal

With inflamed tides
she devours the crop
growing on her sides

River now a curse
she wouldn't recede
without leaving scars

She can't be blamed at all
men have only ravaged her
taken her all.

Autumn comes in like a thief
loitering 'till the
Last Summer Wind
comes
Fall has begun
loading a full metal jacket
encased, guilded
in cupronickel & lead

eager to break the will of lively
verdant vistas down
returning their beautiful souls
and gentle spirits
back to hallowed ground
drifting, floating...
quoting, noting
poetic words
unheard
trying to veer, deviate for  
shared moments...
off without a sound.

Landing over paths
blowing into heaps
swept by wild winds
from  angelic wings
drying, dying
I hear them sighing

Hoping children
will jump in them
smelling the bittersweet of yesterday
raked and burned
they are returned

Sitting in gutters and streams
even in death they dream
in molting piles
all the while
these fading embers...
come September
again remember
they stay within us  
burning beauty
until ...
valuable things are given
life again...
come springtime.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

If you ever travel under rain dotted blue
stop at the ten mile haat.

Sellers there are not smart
buyers don't ever bargain
strange is their dealing art
both parties feel having gained.

Small is all they have
except the smiles on the face
the little the garden has saved
is sold to fetch happiness.

There's no haggling on price
never mind if you don't buy
no price is needed to be nice
peace is just an easy try.

Small men with not much of need
who easily make you their part
an island that lies far from greed
enchants you wins your heart.

And it's not a story that I make
I happen to be there once a while
return with a bag of big take
from the village haat at ten mile.

An empty pop bottle filled with ants
A Fall tomato plant blooming as if its children
even have a chance
A cigarette pack book marker in a Gideon Bible
Bits of blue sky laden with thunderheads
Shellshocked warrior discerning life from death
Shoot me while I sleep so the checks will continue
Remove my face from evils menu
Throw the oxycontin into the lake
To mingle with mud in a watery grave
Call me Wednesday longing for Thursday
Two a.m. contemplative over the dawn
Refuse strewn by wild dogs
Forage did I in hopes of sanity as do the midnight hogs