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Channel: Poems – Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry
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Merlin on the Road

On yet another February day late in that month of unforgiving earth, the irregular beating of junco wings, I rest on a fallen rock, the slab electric with the brutality of bone cold, and the sun fights...

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Red Fern

Red fern found in Spring Valley, near Lost City, 2-24-13 If you don’t believe a story Can stay with you in the background Like a picturesque tree you pose before For all of your life, witness this: I...

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A Reckoning

What happens to pine needles? They get wise and smell strongly Of no place you have ever been. Where do daffodil petals go? They rely on the wind and spread news To the beetles and river rats. Why do...

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Dream Arithmetic

Nobody needs it, The loss of words, the alphabet Of rock and sky, the dictionary Spelling out the weight of pelican Feathers and childbirth. Nobody Needs the dream of images Making no sense, the path...

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Arthur Before

        “And thus the land of Cameliard was waste, Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein, And none or few to scare or chase the beast; So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear Came night...

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Mordred

I opened the gate, walked into the garden Rust flaked off in my hands Sifting the dust To put out the air Squeeze my eyes shut to open to Statues Angel wings, a maiden This urn I smelled it from the...

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Almost, Almost

We wait for the crabgrass and dandelions and wild onion To shuffle aside the fall leaves, our feet crunching What has died, our attention focused on sun and wind, The beauty of not-yet-spring, oh but...

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Convolutions of Calves’ Brains

“Normally this formation weathers out along high, narrow, and short ridges that in airplane view resemble the convolutions of calves’ brains.” –Oklahoma Geological Survey, Beavers Bend State Park Guide...

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Sale Barn

When we moved to town, we were in walking distance Of the sale barn, the place of cardboard boxes Full of stuffed animals, cattle for auction, popsicles, Rows of tin sheds full of okra, corn and...

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Flamingo in Forsythia

Cannot be content with cardinal, With chickadee, mockingbird, and woodpecker, Cannot be content with what naturally seeks you Or at least what appears naturally around you. Take ten of us and lodge us...

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Exploding Seashells

“CIA assassination plots included poisoning a box of Castro’s favorite cigars with botulinus toxin and placing explosive seashells in his favorite diving spots.” The box of oatmeal broke apart In my...

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Moving

  The spoonbill were running at low water dam, But the shirtless and shifty left little room To cast a line. We took the advice Of the bait shop clerk and a one-legged war veteran On a scooter and...

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After the Storm

Crooked driftwood in the skinny tree, Debris like veils shrouding broken branches, Small ground gourds from the previous summer Tumbling to artful rest on piles of small trees, Spring Creek after the...

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Listen to May

The cruelty of April which lingers In a late deadening frost, in the fragile Breaking of stem, the flood that uproots, Is finally no match for that herald Of warm wildflower season—May. May says to...

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Morgeuse Without Silence

Stone walls and the shouting of men Flibberty flibberty flibberty Into this starved air Bells thudding hollow cracking He is waiting She is sure Low rumbling dogs unsure Paws clicking fish bones...

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Elaine

As a girl I gathered the gooseberries effortlessly and helped my mother bake the pies. I knew just how much sugar was needed for the berries—and I could sense their taste by lightly squeezing them and...

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The Necessary

When I was a little girl, We had houses of shade Spaced along the road Where the sycamores And elms waved to us, Their branches longer Than time, leaves wider Than space, our hearts Scary with...

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Merlin at Lessons

He rarely listened to what I taught but that is the way. A true teacher learns early that insisting the student listen is the surest way to uninsure it. I would be deep into Lao Tze’s treatise on...

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Lancelot

After the painting La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Sir Frank Dicksee  But it is not me –not me in that painting. John Keats was ever alone and destined To die young—he was consumed, Consumed—I tell...

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Nimue

The place where I found to rest was thick With chamomile. I lay my head against its spongy, Fragile stems and closed my eyes to the ants Intoxicated by the scent, climbing toward heaven, Or what an...

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