Holiday
on this day moments slip
away, nothing but erosion lasts
particles unfurl, form disappears
he eats lunch alone
when the noon whistle blows
cats jump, deer dance then vanish
broken hearts almost fixed
never to be broken again
sitting in the forest alone.
©2022 Ann Privateer All rights reserved.
Ann Privateer is a poet, artist, and photographer. Some of her work has appeared in Third Wednesday and Entering to name a few.
An Old Lamp
Sits on my desk
Its surface hard
Unyielding, shines
Its oval shape calls
It was a gift so many
Years ago, I hardly
Remember, I’m grateful
For its light, its gray
Unobtrusive color
Reflections of it are
There for me, waiting
Listening, longing
To dance and sing
To do what I can do.
©2022 Ann Privateer All rights reserved.
Ann Privateer is a poet, artist, and photographer. Some of her work has appeared in Third Wednesday and Entering to name a few.
Black & White TV
You hear a whisper
And wonder who spoke
See images wadding
In dark shadows
Where brackish water
Resides, thick and sultry
And money sizzles
It’s the no named myth.
2022 Ann Privateer All rights reserved.
Ann Privateer is a poet, artist, and photographer. Some of her work has appeared in Third Wednesday and Entering to name a few.
