Search

Horses of Sticks

April 15th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for sunset canyon wild horses

 

Skies to the West are bleeding,

Toes gripping an Eastern shore,

The sea thrashes about the ankles,

And Heaven’s an open door.

 

 

But the danger lies in believing

We’re rooted to sandy soil.

Oh, the rush of a golden nugget

And snakes that don’t recoil.

 

 

Fading like Wrangler blue jeans,

Broken like boots that are scuffed,

A cowboy knows when he’s beaten

Calling the canyon’s bluff.

 

 

So gone are the days of Roy Rogers,

Tonto and Rin Tin Tin,

Galloping into the sunset

On horses of sticks and whim.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Legacy

April 7th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for Blue and White Nikko Ironstone cup and saucer

She promised the box

Full of blue and white china

And says, in effect,

This is my legacy.

 

 

I imagine us

Arranging the bits and pieces

Of her storied life

On empty shelves,

Spelling out the chipped

And imperfect syllables

Of broken English

In cups and saucers.

 

 

But now she asks if I mind

Handing the box to Nina instead.

But if she has to ask, I reason,

Then the Legacy must

Be hers.

And the disappointment

Mine.

 

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Unsaid

March 14th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for antique empty page and pen

In my cache of poems

I draw one out

And consider its worth,

Or worthiness.

Finding neither

(I am my own best critic)

I wonder at my inability

To express the simplest

Of emotions,

But there lies the difficulty.

 

Why must everything be said?

Shall I paint the eyes then instead?

Can the brush exude

The depth of soul

I wish to expose?

Why wish it?

Why must everything be laid bare?

 

Hush, don’t say a word.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Indulgence

January 7th, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

 

 

.Image result for winter black and white

Winter deprives us of the sun

We succumb to our weaknesses then.

Dvorak –

And another glass of wine.

Reinventing myself –

A Vanessa Redgrave

As Agatha

Frozen in a block of time.

And the snobbery

Of over indulgence

In everything fine.

And sheer.

And delicate

As the intricate patterns of ice

Melting at the edges.

And at the corners of my mouth.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

I Saw Jesus

March 28th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

I saw Jesus
On a New York City sidewalk.
His hooded sweatshirt
Pulled up over his face.
The dollar bill I gave him
Went through the holes
In both his hands.
And he never looked up.
Not once.

I saw Jesusi saw jesus
Carry his cross of cardboard.
I followed him into an alleyway
Where he slept
With the trash of humanity.
The sweat that trickled from his brow
Was bloodstained.
And he smiled at me
But once.

I saw Jesus.
He wore the face of every man.
He was at Seventh Avenue
And at 31st and Broadway.
He was the beggar, the friar
And the multitudes.
He was everyone
And everywhere at once.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Springtime Jaunt

March 22nd, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Through the tangled depthspringtime jaunt
Of forest
Moves a form
Amongst the trees.
But its heart
Begins to flourish,
Man with dog
Trots at his knees.

Was there ever such
A kinship,
Loving glances stolen
Thus.
Off he runs, an act
More selfish.
But with a whistle
Shakes the dust.

Once more
At his master’s side,
Two connected
Without chain.
One must seek
As the other hides
Yet neither one
Would dare complain

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Sir Robin

February 28th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Fat, round, harbingersir robin
Of Hope,
Startled at the absence
Of anything verdant,
Suspiciously eyeing
The quilted conundrum
At my throat –
As if I could sing.
But here,
My lovely golden orb,
An utterance of delight
Caught between the breath
Of winter
And the gloved hand
To my lips,
At what you might choose
To bring.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

The Wicked Wicked Winter

February 15th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Merciless wind.
The snow and icewinter
Of sinner’s sin.
Frozen hearts
Linked end to end.
A chain of no redemption.

Armed with shovel.
Salt the walk
From hub to hovel.
Flanked by banks
Of arctic rubble.
A mountain of contention.

The wicked wicked wintry blast.
More’s the fool
Who thought to ask
Relief from summer’s
Brashest brass
But never his intention.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

Cold !

January 27th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Brrr-aving the wind that gustscold
The just settled snow
To fall anew,
That talcoms every naked branch
In powder blue.

But I, mummified
In quilted coat
And wrapped not once
But twisted twice,
Peer from within
The downy depths,
Two owl eyes
In its knitted nest.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01

When I’ve Forgotten

January 18th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

When I have forgottenRose in the snow
The names of the flowers,
The birds,
And the trees.
When I see them
For what they are
And not by what
They are called,
I will know my self
Before the language
I was taught.
And the name
I was given.
Taking my place
Amongst the stars
I remembered.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
line01