My dream said
I was avoiding
That old ghost

And I said
Good

After twenty five years
Of hitting
And missing
I don't need
To go anywhere
Near there
Anymore

The street Yes teaches the soul
To lose all hope and fight
With standard flesh in parallel
Reflection of drowning realities.
The street Yes teaches the heart
To break and gratefully piece itself
Back together like broken sidewalks
Uninterrupted in the geology
Of parallel violence.

The street does not teach tenderness
To rise with renewed passion;
A Phoenix phenomena pounding
The chest and crushing the solitude.
The street does not teach
How to cope with happiness
Or the success where none was before,
The street always educated,
Heavily, for its burden.

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

Tree, I have come to shelter and with the rain to weep
I am soaked, barefoot with mud running through.
Soft the moss, cool and cold
to soothe my heart that bleeds.
Our waxing nights of love and moons
now fallow, a field that burns.
****** our hollow bed
of haunting, silent screams
too soon the fiery devil
too far my lover
the spring.

September
returning
burning
after
sleeping
sweeping
keeping
as we are
recalling
falling
leaving
singing
bringing
Autumn's
long
summer
songs

voices
awaiting ...
dating
wings
ones
that
play
say
me
  joyful
sounding
hymns
capricious
whims

  Gehl
tractor's
are
going
mowing
rowing
growing
cutting
strutting
whil­e
bracing
gracing
meadows
and
fields
yields
cruising
using
all
day
gathered
memories
of
sweet
smelling
hay
a lost
waif
in the sky
I sigh

oh I
remember
My
Dearest
September
  the
lonesome
bittersweet
that
humming
drumming
beat
it
calls me
home again
my
waiting
wanting...

Sweet
September
friend.


Cherie Nolan © 2016