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Best Poems From
ALBERT AHEARN
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265.
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Memories of mother
Mothers Day always trips sadness
in me since her death years ago;
impelling a circuitous
journey of memories that flow
within a stream of consciousness
always the same, unabated.
It's queer how an act of congress
can regress a mind effected
in such a way as to cause tears.
I guess stranger things have happened
and will happen over the years.
Though measured in nanoseconds
these yearly memories of her
are all that remains of mother.
Albert Ahearn
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266.
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Metamorphosis
Commenced
as a tiny
egg glued to foliage.
Maturing bondage in a shell
awaits
Larva
Eating, growing,
full size caterpillar
outgrows its present confines.
Splitting
Again
Reattaching
itself with liquid from
its spinneret. Creating a
button.
hanging
little pupa
dieting, motionless,
metamorphosing completely
anew
Cracking,
exposing head
and thorax first. Followed
by legs and golden wings of a
Monarch.
Albert Ahearn
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267.
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Mindfulness
Somewhere, a Blue Flax cluster blooms.
Their beauty lasts but for a day
Then die in the sun unobserved.
Someplace, an old man lies dying
Alone in the dark with no one
To comfort and pray at his side.
Oftentimes I amble in fields
Searching for this blue wildflower;
And like Meriwether Lewis
I on occasion find the plant;
When I do, I quickly bundle
A large bouquet and head for home.
This time they are for my neighbor:
A man of eighty in poor health.
Morning neighbor, have you a vase?
Albert Ahearn
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268.
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Monarchs
With trusting innocence we've played
with nets and jars amid a field
of muted rustling blooms that yield
Their subtle breaths of perfumed air
where milkweed monarch's foraged there.
They were the prize and preference
of youth and trusting innocence.
Inexpertness with nets gave flight
elusiveness till next alight
on efflorescence's afield
Sedulity kept our eyes peeled
on tawny-orange and black, large wings
in hopes we would be capturing
these lovely regal butterflies
with gauzy wings and very spry.
Albert Ahearn
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