Poems and Poetry

Elaine Meredith

Last Left | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

Light even so, lake waves
break to countless tiny crests
pinpoint brilliant; boundless
tumult, starry dancing water top
in sparkle pale golden glints
leapt and glittering in short lived
flickers as bonfire’s red orange
near spent embers, yellowish
flame glimmered rhythm;
shimmer to heaven beyond.

Limber evergreens set
whip lash arc set boughs,
wind gust limbs tip skyward
harkening; wide blue bounty
does not leave this earth raised
and lowered beneath, and no
shadows thrown upon silent
walls in hue and furor tempest,
but rests below eternity
in unencompassed peace.

That these doings have
no closed meanings or times’
paused cleaved breach amid
creation and passing blue
firmament, rather tell at once
the ascent of vast great water
in eddied stepped green pools,
where all sight and sound have
parted in torrent waterfalls to
unimagined depthless calm.

Uptown | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

Into me sensed lifetimes
parade like window frames;
stone and brick frontages,
not known or grasped,
simply that they are there,
and like glassy domino rows
exit back behind, as from
within and through me.

Like some passage
of cross street wind
along hillside avenues,
are sinews; other existences
jumbling their bygone
emotions, sleep vanquished
but come real as dawn
to my every wakening.

They move in portrait
facades, passing above;
habitations, expectancy,
hope, dreadful glimpses:
hard fate that grips this
heart’s sustaining peace,
and stunned by mute mirrors
in passing taxi windows.

Up There | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

The endless reign
of her sublime serenity
from column two
on a corner music box
and hard worn floor.

With a nasal twang
it could snap the strings
on a pedal steel, and
yodel that’d quick start
a cold stoker’s heart.

There on stage
a single spot lit island,
she pulls all the stops
that a pedal drum
couldn’t knock apart.

There an evening’s
swept melodies, that
thrum under a meeting
hall light, cut shadow
on the bayou.

Fireflies in darkened
beams waltz symphonies;
another melting heartache
two steps into the
morning dew.

At dawn old porch
timbers seem to hum
a tune, where a pair
of mules are silhouetted
against the blue.

An old blazing disc
just risen up the sky;
and another old story
that we’d known
come by and by.

Nearer to Thee | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

How did we like
the moon; was it
really worth the trip?
Had it not been good
enough to sit beneath
the stars and cleave
unto its hovering beams;
to give ourselves to
blissful dreams, and
tomorrows yet to come?
Were we all the better
for what this was to sum,
and what could be next,
under the climbing sun?
There a green blue dot
from a heavenly sky,
and that was the
question that really
mattered why.

Depthless | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

There it was before me,
close unto my heart
as I knew it would be ever:
sudden quiet kindled fire
far within the depths;
an unknown cavern, stilled,
listening darkness shattered
by a blaze.

There it was before me,
beyond named emotion:
deliverance, hope, poignant
longing; troubled waters’
fateful confusions; the dull
half excitement, ever disguised,
of unknowing curiosity,
faint within the flames.

There it was before me;
now inconsolable, beyond
all hope of redemption,
lost as cooling ashes
quickly scattered in a wind;
bereft, abandoned in
chill absence; yet unfailing
keepsake of some day
to come: there it was.

Rip Tide | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

Shore breeze cuts shroud
tattered wisps, gnarl of cypress
bough, headland lowering down.
She rests at water’s edge,
knees bent along, and hands
splayed back, coursing waves
on the incoming tide slack
bubbled on the sand; sea lifting
pleats into neap flow, skirling
sparkling grains across the bottom.
Distant horizon tint, burnish,
rimmed to her forlorn dream’s
remnants; fog horn grey clarion,
passersby on a promenade above
thoughtless of the coming storm.
Hers alone is a last memory;
many bluffs and many seas, and
on inland boulevards, of theatre
and late repasts, peopled streets
have gone mindless; clutching
better selves, which only vanish,
star wreathed, swift, in each
cloud walled wakening.
Now inclined to the sea,
hands lifted from the surf,
galaxies have flown
from her finger tips, and
dreams have circled
her solemn brow.

Past Due | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

You’re the sunny to my skippy,
the yowee to my yippy,
the screams behind my dreams,
the voice that cries out loud;
you’re the darling of the crowd.
I could not live without
the memory of your shouts,
and even with a reason
it is nothing short of treason;
then simply to forget
would be laden with regret.
So, I’m sure you’ll relate
this is merely the matter
of a book beyond its date,
and if I might not pay the fine
I shall promise no next time.