Joan McNerney


 

 

Wintry Bouquet

This December
during wide nights
hemmed by blackness,
I remember roses.
Pink yellow red violet
those satin blooms of June.

We must wait six months
before seeing blossoms,
touch their brightness
crush their scent
with fingertips.

Now there are only
ebony pools of winter’s
heavy ink of darkness.

Dipping into memory of
my lips touching petals
tantalizing sweet buds.
My body longs for softness.

I glimpse brilliant faces of
flowers right before me as I
burrow beneath frosty blankets.
Bracing against that long, cold
nocturnal of wind and shadow.





This Morning

Between deep night
and soft dawn the
mist covers fields
spreading over daisies
climbing bunchberries
wetting seeds, leaves.

Milky smoke roams
back and forth
wandering voiceless
through mountains
of morning.

Whistling in fog
past sycamores
warblers seesaw
up cloudy layers
up up circling
toward heaven.





Blue Your Eyes

Blue your eyes
this edge of snow
in silent sky.
Brown eyes soft
tree bark patterns as
yellow flicks
sparkle in wintry sun.

And now it seems
your eyes are green
green as spruce
turning to grey eyes
glancing across as if
from a mountainside.

Your eyes two violets
hidden beneath frost.
Close your eyes
as sleepless stars
glide through night
in aerial ballet.

Black coal eyes
glowing on fire
red flames leaping
out of eyes burning
blue your eyes.




Copyright  ©  2014 Joan McNerney

 

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Spectrum, Three Bright Spring Press Anthologies and several Kind of A Hurricane publications.  She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net. Four of her books have been published by fine small literary presses.