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Poetry of Life Poet
Poems Submitted by Patricia
Fritsche
It's About / You
And I
An Autumn's Perennial Friend
IT'S ABOUT
Clover smiles wallpapered
on sudden exposure from
boundaries within, reaching
further, on endless rafters of
fairy light fanning just right.
Stretches abound of candle dripped
nights, of pocket wishes
held tight, by the moment's magic.
Of amethyst's handwork releasing
its power to greet
and fill any gray
steps.
As the wish gets revolved again,
the joy stands firm it will get better.
As multi-level smiles get embraced
and tag the spirit of endless love.
by Patricia
Fritsche
YOU AND I!
The sun sat down and cried one day,
as it looked down below. The wind
sharp-shooting anything in its way. Leaves
twirling in a lost daze. The visions
brought to them, again, in this hour.
Barren clouds wearing long face,
no faucet here to be turned on, or off.
Earth as humble on fallen knees, sometimes,
the drone of rickety laughter
taking for granted the strength of their shade,
gets a bit much.
Knowing the doings
of long standings proud and tall,
in nature's summit is good.
The shovel of life leaving its sweat
on paralyzed ash. Hoping something
new and better will take hold.
And, follow in this politically correct
kingdom of our first and last breath
by Patricia
Fritsche
An Autumn's Perennial Friend
Stale used up fences
not of the country,
white picket kind
crocheting you're welcome here.
Guarding stale
used up excuses
"change doesn't happen here."
Inhaling those dried, orange skins
and cinnamon ash
put that pumpkin pie welcome
clove in there, too.
Simmering from the base
of a friendship, I am free to discover.
Fall in her undressing awakens
a proverbial message in me.
I take with me
all that I've experienced
in thought, word, and deed.
Knowing it's in the weave.
Not a "stitch witchery"
to the heart and mind.
And, each brisk walk
through the forest of contemplation
of a burgundy, and maroon motif,
these leaves twirling in its personal marathon.
We both meet in a bookmark
experienced in our evolution, together.
These things I walk on,
one by one selectively.
Enriching the understanding
and the alchemy of thoughts
warming up the senses again.
This of poor, anorexia nature,
that of a watered down intent,
and the other
of just a wall flower nonsense
to the get up and go of learning soul.
Knowing it houses
the candle of a universal wick
in trying out truth's galoshes,
a winter's madness,
a cryogenic sleep of purpose, it does.
Not with my Fall
it brings out the best
of what can be.
The cascading leaves
leaving again beautiful memories.
by Patricia
Fritsche
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