the hover and swoop
of dragonflies
sweet effusion of Lavender
I hear and smell
lying on my mother’s bed
it is summer and a breeze
comes through the window
that opens to the Colorado plain
sheer white curtains
flow over me
barely touching me
as if a hint or whisper
requiring stillness
awaiting the next breath
nothing could be as peaceful
as curtains lifting and waving
in and out of half sleep
empty mind I rest
this is what I remember
of my childhood
it will be my last memory
a gift that holds me
even now
sometimes it is the only thing
that reminds me
of who I really am
an innocent girl
housed momentarily
in this wayward stolid form
sometimes it is
the only thing left
after a lifetime of seeking
what is good
Published by Marie Marchand
I write poetry to capture beauty in language and imagery in hopes of healing myself and the world. Poetry for me has always been a seeking. An effort to come closer to beauty, to explicate beauty, to behold it in words. I wish to formalize beauty, to give it a title and empower it to go forth into the world. I want to give it shape and lend it the capacity for remembrance.
Poetry captures essence. Without essence, there is nothing worth saving.
John Keats and William Wordsworth are my favorite poets. My absolute favorite poem to read aloud is Wordsworth's Lines, otherwise referred to as Tintern Abbey. And it must be read aloud at least annually for uplift of the soul.
I have shared my poetry through various means including handmade chapbooks, readings, and publication. All the poetry posted on this site is written and copyrighted by me. This collection represents about half of my poetry.
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