All Poems
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Sorrowful Friends
© Zieroth David Dale
They will always be with us, with their newsof calamity that makes our chests feel some old collapse of our own, a protest against divergence, a bruiseon last bits of skin we thought still freshand fairly managing the task of the presenting flesh
to a world aimed at it
The Man Who Invented the Turn Signal
© Zieroth David Dale
The man who invented the turn signalwalks out the factory gatessomewhere in the westknowing he's done a serviceto the world hitting the roadby telling the car behind
Glenella, Manitoba
© Zieroth David Dale
The village, east of highway five,huddles by the only railway tracks infifty miles
24. Song-No Churchman am I
© Robert Burns
NO churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care.
Crows do not have Retirement
© Zieroth David Dale
."There are no words to capture the infinite depth ofcrowiness in the crow's flight.."--Ted Hughes, Winter Pollen
239. Song-My Bonie Mary
© Robert Burns
GO, fetch to me a pint o’ wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
238. Song-Auld Lang Syne
© Robert Burns
SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
Aphasia
© Zieroth David Dale
It is the suddenness of crossingoverthat cannot be comprehended.One moment she is among usreaching for her purse.Àæ.
237. Song-It is na, Jean, thy Bonie Face
© Robert Burns
IT is na, Jean, thy bonie face,
Nor shape that I admire;
Altho’ thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awauk desire.
The Drunkard's Child
© Yule Pamelia Sarah
A little child stood moaning At the hour of midnight lone,And no human ear was list'ning To the feebly wailing tone;The cold, keen blast of winter With funeral wail swept by,And the blinding snow fell darkly Through the murky, wintry sky
236. Song-I Reign in Jeanie’s Bosom
© Robert Burns
LOUIS, what reck I by thee,
Or Geordie on his ocean?
Dyvor, beggar louns to me,
I reign in Jeanie’s bosom!
235. Song-The Fall of the Leaf
© Robert Burns
THE LAZY mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.
233. Song-O were I on Parnassus Hill
© Robert Burns
O, WERE I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o’ Helicon my fill,
