Childish Eyes

When I was a child I saw
Space ships in dust motes
Crossing sunbeam asteroid belts.

I saw
Lost pearls in sea foam -
Pirate treasures washed ashore.

I saw
The Sahara in a sandbox
Cathedrals in campfires
Battlefields in bedspreads.

When I was a child I made
The Amazon out of broccoli
Alpine slopes from mashed potatoes
And butter islands in warm milk.

I followed fairies through the woods
And drank potions made of air.

When I was a child I saw
Monsters in the shadows
Witches on the wind
Sharks in the bathtub
Vampires in the cupboard
And Frankenstein in the laundry room.

When I was a child
 My world was bound by sidewalks
And limitless as dreams.

When I was a child,
I saw like a child.
When did I put childish eyes
Away?

Waxing Poetic

When I am overtly poetic
I sport million-dollar words
and wear purple prose that draws undue attention
             to my meter.

I count syllables like coins
and calculate figures of speech
spending their value as a miser
        and a mayor.

I drive metaphor
and plead my case with simile.
Art is my co-counsel.

I waltz Con-stanza down the street
and suffer bouts of word play.
I stutter sonic symbolism
     and wallow in imagery.

When I am overtly poetic
I overindulge linguistically
All
Day
Long.

Hallowed

Fall melancholy pushes past
The beaded curtain of the soul.
Incense-burning
       crystal-gazing
            palm-reading
                  gray-sky blessings
Watch with deep eyes and open hands
As home-starved spirits venture forth
From the long shadows of a harvest moon.

- by Cynthia J. McGean