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The Web Poetry Corner

Lesley Dawn


Athol, ID, US

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Lesley Dawn

From my window
I can see the Catholic Spire.
I can not hear the bells.

Beyond my vision
lies the House of Ghosts
built by the same mind;
Insane from the grief of
daughters beloved death.

The house of elephants, and lions
being clawed in the death throws
of an eagle.
The house of mermaids
and climbing vines.

The church
with singing silence
painted over stone
that would be more glorious naked
but in ode to Victoria
must be clothed, even in ugliness

I see, I see
but where are the bells?



Lesley Dawn

A sunlit field
with butterflies
on every flower
Dusty roads
winding round and round
with cars
putt-putting along

A fluffy cloud
floats between
earth and heaven
Trees stand
never tired
blown by breezes
soft and warm

A stream smooths
rocks shoved up
through the soil
Breathe my soul
the entrance
of sanctuary
is near

This is peace.