Book of Styles: Shades of Grey #2

This page looks plain and unstyled because you're using a non-standard compliant browser. To see it in its best form, please upgrade to a browser that supports web standards. It's free and painless.

<< blog .:. me .:. book >>

Over Site Meter Served

All Poetry copyright Sheryl McCurdy

I'm thinking about taking a bath and then starting my life over
from scratch
skipping the dirty wide paths that lie
filled with broken stones, shards that cut and embed
I don't know how to keep my bare feet on a soft summer dirt road
ditch sides filled to brim with sunflowers nodding sleepily
and meadowlarks skipping the balmy air with their


button your lip
for you don't need to
speak to the Lord
she' all alone in her upside down house
basking in the startled gaze of the angels I believe
there is nothing on earth so vivid as the sight of that party
except for the patch of sunlight that perches across your hair
you seem unwise to the ways of this world you might be scolded
unaware of the beauty of letting those words fall into your ears
downy thoughts unhinge open fly from your eyes don't they just wish
you could put life into them and let go

there seems to be a controversy about the way some people use their space

Cancer Is So Artsy

what kind of poetry
do cancer cells mouth to the gathering crowds?
what kind of dance?
what type of painting?
maybe a Picasso wannabe
what sound?
wind chimes, one melodic bar striking another and then another
following a haphazard
pattern less
random musical score
the sounds of harmonicly challenged notes

I think often of flat white fields
stretched across the Nebraska horizon
winter snow bunny covered
and then
summer coming late blooming
black eyed susans edging
leafy green jagged eared waves of corn
brown rows threaded inbetween

Big & Empty

somehow I got
this far
midnight crscent moon lit walks beside the point
until yesterday I thought I was
doing okay
doing without
but now I feel like
like an echo's
merely a shadow beneath the blinding sun
bleached out
drained and left out
for the wind to blow
me like a man made
plastic Walmart bag
dancing alone across the
big and empty
fields outside my home

well past 6am I study the sky
coffee beans ground and donuts frosted
now there is time to watch pink and lavender dawn
beneath the edge of night
the moon totters heavily toward the West as I sit
hands warming around a thin lipped cup
the newspaper folded neatly to my right
alone, I raise my glass and toast the break of day; sip gaze sigh

Wild Poems To Lasso


I was just lying there

Almost asleep

When my mind broke open

Like a dropped egg

Thoughts and poems slid out

Floating free

Running wildly

Kicking at my brain

I was afraid as I came fully awake

To move

For fear I would disturb the filmy mist

They floated in

I repeated silently over and over these words

Wanting to cage them

Press them down on a pinnacle of no escape

When I at last rushed toward paper

They scattered like a wild herd of horses

I gathered my pen and began to lasso the closest

And worked my way to the end

All Poetry Copyright Sheryl McCurdy

Design by Book of Styles
Hosting by WebRing.