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Teresa L. Mack
©
Upon the Northern Breeze
© Teresa L. Mack
My darling,
You do not know me--
For I am hidden
among the pines.
But I have a heart
that sings one truth--
Nature is
love divine.
My darling,
you cannot hear me--
Nor would I
ask you to.
For my voice
laments in music--
Quiet notes that
bid adieu--
My darling,
I have hovered here
watching from
the branches.
And asked a thousand
times for love--
But never heard
an answer.
My darling,
when the winter dawns--
And I must fade
from view--
Please know that
always I will return--
For spring is
life made new.
My darling,
I ache so to be worthy--
That you may
one day see.
But alas my darling
I am sent of the air--
To glide upon
the northern breeze. |
Featured poet for Feb/March 2005
The featured poet for this month is Teresa L. Mack.
Theresa's Biography
Introductions come far more difficult for me than does poetry, but I will give
this a whirl! I am 37 years old and currently live in big old Texas with my
loving partner-- plus our newest edition, Parker the toy poodle! I served four
years in the U.S. Army right out of high school and finished two years of
culinary school when I'd served my term. The years following found me cooking my
heart out until it finally came to me that my one passion above all others had
always been writing. About five years ago I decided to return to college as an
English major--go figure! I am currently a senior and approaching graduation--
My goal?? Graduate school and then who knows-- Poetry, literature, art and music
are all passions in my life, rivalled only by my love for a wonderful partner
who has filled me with all I ever hoped could be possible in a relationship. It
is an honour to share the written word with all who would listen, all who dream
and all who dare to fill the page with their deepest thoughts
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A Pile of Papers
© Teresa L. Mack
A Pile of papers on my floor
the teetering gentle giant--
Staring round, it quietly roared--
An earnest cry in silence--
A Pile of papers, words I wrote--
Something's, nothings, thoughts and quotes--
A pile of papers, slits and slots
ever rendering echoes--
Can they quench a final thought
fevered and more endangered?
A pile of papers; life caressed--
I could, should, but simply didn't address--
A pile of papers peer deep within
revealing secrets harboured--
Hopes, failures, luxurious sins--
Memories on parchment salvaged--
A pile of papers; ideas, intrigues--
The essence of me in scribbled down dreams.
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Recipe
© Teresa L. Mack
Add a pinch of travesty--
You'll need to stir sometimes--
Then knead her will
relentlessly--
You're sure to get at least a rhyme.
Fold in three softly beaten hopes--
Drop now dreams of love--
Bread her heart quite heavily--
Words will steep from lips uncovered.
Let her rise to simmer and whisk--
Blanche her for effect--
A touch of passion
inflicted--
Hear now stanzas begin to connect.
Grill the lady 'til golden brown--
Always be sure to baste--
Put in lifetime's miseries
occasioned--
Watch the poem begin to take shape.
Cream together buttered lies--
Salt her aching soul--
Sift in two cups resilience
unprocessed.
The final dish is nearly done.
Clarify all remaining tears--
Toss them in with her--
Garnish with chilled empathy
unsweetened.
This muse is ready to give you verse.
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