a season spurned

monetClaude Monet

i may have turned my back on you
poor spring-
you seem to be standing
by my door
outside my window
begging me to play
to see and smell and feel
all the glories you have
waiting for me
the way you always have
instead, i stay inside
hardly bearing to look out
my window
i know, i know you want me
to join you in a frolic
but, they say i shouldn’t
so, my friend, perhaps
when we have traveled
round the sun once more
we shall reacquaint ourselves

ceg 4.25.2020


if she were to tell you
what it was that made
her wander
across the high prairie
it might sound like
the wind moving through
the brown green tall grasses
our like a hawk’s cry
it might smell like distant rain
it might feel lonesome
it would leave you to your thoughts
both vulnerable
and strong
it would feel like home
weltering under the piercing sun
dreaming under the ancient stars


ceg 4.24.2020


there is music in her smile
her walk
powerful and poignant in turn
her spirit in and out
between each measure
in a key signature all its own
the melody is elusive
yet familiar
it is shared with many
but unique to her
her smile
her walk


ceg 4.23.2020

the clown who would be king

there have been so many things
that really should have
rung the bell
made it clear that it was done
no more cruelty
no more lashing out
lies that roll out like thunder
living off the faint praise
of posturing clowns
and yet, there he is
glowing in the light
of the uninlightened


ceg 4.22.2020

April’s Winds Came Calling

wild winds whip through the trees
no soft, sweet caresses tonight
boughs bend
windows shudder
rain stings fragile flowers
with needled misery
as the shadows creep in
the moon turns her face
from the folly below
spring isn’t always
the time of rebirth

ceg 4/20/2020


what was and what is

renoir peachRenoir

that grimace
like when you bite into
a gooseberry
eyes clench
mouth a straight line of
sour overload
that’s the legacy
you left behind
for i have found
the sweetest of fruits
succulent and smooth
the kind like when
you bite into
a summer peach
and laugh as
the juice trickles
down your chin

ceg 4.19.2020

portrait of the poet as she is


i have been told that grief
of the sustained type
molds a person and
changes them
i have worn my sorrows
like braids, ribbons woven
among my hair
i have hidden my despair
deep within an almost
forgotten chamber
i have not found one
to be greater than the other
nor less profound
but both paint a portrait
of who i am
more accurately than
any artist could comprehend

ceg 4/17/2020