Friday, April 21, 2017


In honor of National Poetry Month, I have been sharing my original poetry. This is a poem I wrote in 2008 but re-styled and edited this month. In keeping with my recent "color poems" (here and here), it is called "Yellow."


Waking in morning, white sheets,
curtains open onto yellow brightness,
clear yellow, orange tinged, already warm and warming,
the promise of yellow roses, the day ahead, I can see it,
the shape of it,
I can get my arms around it.
I am singing on the inside,
I am singing songs of blindness on the inside,
I can only sing of today
and she is still alive
and he is still alive
and I know where I have to go.

And they are still alive and I know where I have to go today.

And the room is furnished with
everything I have ever loved and
everything I will ever need
and they are still alive today.

I know it’s not heaven: “Not exactly,”
but it is today, shaped like today,
feeling like today, that’s all.
This iron trellis the yellow roses climb,
this plot near the road, near the freeway,
near the town, nearer to something
I don’t know yet
and they are still alive.

©JEF 2008-2017

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