Gabrielle Gassin
A mother’s musings on life
Category: poetry
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A grey scale dawn deceives morning eyes Unfriendly, the stillness seems Until sleeping bodies reawaken From within Shoots and scions collected carefully; Nests warm with tiny bodies And the chorus begins. all of this Whilst pavers, cold with autumn cool host ants busy with newfound treasure – A secret death, A body – Tufts lay…
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I am not a poet And yet Words come from thoughts Letters on a yellow page colours changing – black, blue, green Inside, jumbled ideas Become clear Reflective, evocative, Making sense And yet The words of others Sound louder But make no sense to me And have I Misunderstood What makes a poet? Words misaligned…
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The birds this morning, On one side of home Sing – Their tune saccharine Layered upon the quiet of dawn The stillness of which Is startling And inside, The children sleep With luck; Their mother cajoled Into belief, that Today – we can begin again the composure of first light Captured, held close, and Used,…
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This night’s rest Has not been clean This body unquiet Within the covers And so without Freshness, the mind is laden Its slate unwashed It seems, With the accumulation Of yesterday’s words Presented once more Upon waking A bowl though washed Remnants remain And it feels that way; Still soiled Needing another round With eyes…
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The seat was empty And then it wasn’t He sat without appearing to sit His order taken with no sign Of a person having taken it The wait for food Unnoticeable The bright light of a blue screen discernible even in the middle of the day And how is it this, More luminescent than the…
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The hand held saw Bestowed whilst waiting Its tiny rusted teeth menacing, for good purpose Seems misplaced on December 1, The anticipatory air filled With the tinkle of jingling bells And music The children dressed in red and green Their parents patient; it’s only once a year The cutting down of a Christmas pine Lends,…
Gabrielle Gassin 