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Daybreak and other Poems

Verlie Burroughs is a west coast writer from Vancouver Island.

daybreak-and-other-poems

Daybreak

They fly out into the cold chalky mist.
Sharp strings singing like ringing bells;
(piercing the stony walls of my heart)
a new day breaks in Starlings.
Symphonic, iconic soothing sound vaulting
into dawn. Insistent chirps, whistling,
willing me awake.
A song melting, falling fragile as a snowflake.

Starlings living in my roof provide a sweet morning wake-up call, and a lullaby at night.

Hedge Witch Redux

I am a hedge witch
I gather sticks and stones
I feel things in my bones.
After tea I go, out and walk about
looking here and there (crows follow me everywhere)
searching to see the scented herbs are still there
lavender, parsley, sweet cicely, comfrey, plantain, dandelion leaf
to make magic potions for healing my emotions.

I peer beneath tangled shrubbery, and look for things I cannot see.
Engulfed by a thorny jungle of sprawling vine and leaf
the waning light is brief.
I am a hedge witch, it is too late to switch
but on a starry night in May
when all the flowers swoon (and crows tumble at my feet)
I take my twiggy broom, and fly around the moon.



The hedge witch poem was inspired by Bev G's awesome witchcraft articles. I'm not really a witch. Well, maybe a wanna be witch.


daybreak-and-other-poems

I Dreamed I Went Writing

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
He analysed my metaphor, and found it very poor
(but after awhile he decided he liked my style).

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
He really was irascible, but found my verse accessible
and he studied my lines with interest.

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
He unveiled me stanza by stanza, as we danced on the veranda
and he took my enjambments seriously.

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
He didn't miss a beat, though my poems were incomplete
and he even coined a new word for my imagery.

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
He adored my sestets, and we carried on with no regrets
(when he reached my trochee, my heart skipped an extra beat).

I dreamed I went writing with a poetry analyst.
Sometimes he would toy with deconstructing Helen of Troy
but he always came back to me.

This is based on a real dream I had, and isn't meant to reflect any particular person. Although my favorite poetry analyst has got to be Andrew Spacey bar none. I've learned so much about poets and poetry making from reading his articles.

© 2019 Verlie Burroughs

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