Tag: tears

Nominated For A Pushcart Prize: One Sunday, Slow To Wake

~ Lynne Burnett ~ 13 Comments
zach-taiji-9z3PSK4sn1c-unsplash
Photo by Zach Taiji on Unsplash

Let us grant that the pulsing rain wells
from a cavernous heart. Now the tulips

peering redly through my basement window
stoop slowly, nodding amid the blades of grass

as I curve to red yawns and the green stretch
of a lip, artfully shaping soundless appeals

to these guardian sentinels, this crimson grail
from which I drink and dream. Let us believe

there are upheavals in the dark: a bell ringing,
tears gathered in the urgent arch of my heart,

the congregation, at last, rising to sing.

I’m thrilled to share that this poem has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by editor Robert L. Penick of the print journal “Ristau: A Journal Of Being” where it first appeared in January of 2019! Oh happy day! Here’s what the Pushcart Prize is about.

 

 

Changed

~ Lynne Burnett ~ 2 Comments
Photo by David Gomes from Pexels

Today a friend, old before her time,
passed by—younger, it seemed.
Losing her husband, she had lost
her footing in the world for years,
change—the stranger most feared:
hidden in dark rooms everywhere.

I was struck by her face: wax-white
and smooth, like a cupped candle,
her eyes, calm reflective pools
no longer hooded
or stoned with grief,
as if she had sunk through her own tears

to the cold bottom of that well
until it was emptied
of the one held most dear,
and stood now, looking up,
drinking from the buckets
of light that filled it.

Another older poem, included in my chapbook “Stealing Eternity”.