The eyes of my soul distraught
Nothing catches or stays that has meaning.
My spirit tingled by unknown words
Thoughts un-captured.
What remains, are only the impressions of images lost.
If I am dumb it matters not,
If I am sharp you too will listen
And will become distraught
To the sounds of thought.
And on and so forth.
But there is the animal in me
That longs to get out
And be lost away from thought
Into the peace of quietness, motionless
Sincere and happy to be.
Prior Quigley
02/05
PoetTree and P.Rose Collection
Of Garden Poetry
This fall nature brought frost.
I picked a plum Popsicle
From its garden host,
Like buttered ice toast,
Crunchy and sweat.
Oh lord my tomato plants
All are dead,
Like crystal chandeliers
Lost forever,
Doomed by coming sunshine.
Look, pillow topped iceberg lettuce
In its garden bed.
I'll lay down in it
As dead, forever crowned lettuce head.
Staying till noon
Warmed by autumn
No longer human
Mingled, with mud and plant and slime.
So many tomato worms
Inching, inching my way
No!, No!
Stay away.
Eyes are for seeing not for eating
And I'm no longer frozen
Or dead
Least not today.
Prior Quigley 2005
