~ Denise Petersen ~



Click or scroll for Denise's poems:

My Land

A Stroll Along the Shore

Summer Farewell

Country Garden



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My Land


My water-polished, greenstone land remains an uncut gem
that's set within a ring of fire: the vast Pacific's hem.
The legendary giants who caroused and shook this earth,
lie dormant under grassy cloaks now spread across their girth.

These titans sprawl, unconscious, all curvaceous; long limbs fanned
in glorious, abandoned grace: soft, rolling hills. My land.
A sleeper stirs, a hillside moves; some years, a cloak is torn,
or restless dreamers rouse and stretch volcanoes in a yawn.

Will languor always linger, or will ogres seal our fate?
My water-cradled, greenstone land is slumbering. I'll wait.


© Copyright 2001 Denise Petersen


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New Zealand background image from NASA: Visible Earth










A Stroll Along the Shore

Breathing an intoxicating
ozone lung elixir,
swirling sea aromas
like an ocean cocktail mixer...

Sinking to the toenails,
feeling suction on bare feet,
that kisses naked insteps
in a sandy massage treat...

Squinting at the blue-on-blue
where water laps the sky
and drowns all shallow musing
in a repetitious sigh...

This is when the dreamer
opens eyes that were resigned
and pushes back the cobweb habits
wrapped around the mind.



© Copyright 2002 Denise Petersen


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Summer Farewell


A restless autumn atmosphere
where waiting yokes the edgy air,
austere, the trees stand staunch and grim
while silence shrieks a warning hymn.

The reined-in tempest, hushed but shrill
will tense expectant minds until
they're filled with static echoes. Mourn
with pagan wails. Enter storm.

The keening cry of wind that seeks
bleak savagery as fury peaks,
then weakens as the driving rain
soon drowns all in a drummed refrain.

So summer's dirge will usher in
the alter ego, bitter twin.



© Copyright 2001 Denise Petersen


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Country Garden

I haunt the grassy ways,
calm channels through the garden isles' blaze.
All riotous and perfume-laden, prone
with balanced stands of restful monotone.
The border path, a streaming, winding maze
in contrast with the blossoms massing lush -
while some discreetly blush.

I'm carried ever on.
This flower furnished, sumptuous salon
has mythic dryads always out of reach,
who beckon, arms translucent. They beseech
with visions all around me and beyond.
Intoxicating wonderland of peace,
your gift is my release.

An insect polka sings
of butterflies with tissue paper wings,
and lavender gives silent mauve applause,
while hybrids shout, ignoring nature's laws.
A warm and glowing touch, the sunlight brings
me comfort. Here, enclosed in tender wrap,
relaxed in Eden's lap.



© Copyright 2000 Denise Petersen


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