Jana krause
  • Books
  • Social
  • About
  • Poetry
  • Stories
  • Contact

Poetry

Some Old
Some New
Mostly Raw Verse

Who has you in memory...

Before You Lead Me to Prison...


​Who has you in memory

From fiddle-faddle days?

A hundred scattered scenes,

Fractured, secret memes,

A golem,

Their you, portrays.
 
Before you lead me to prison,
Let’s wait ‘til the sun has risen,
For the night is long
And the stars are calling my name.
 
If the angry gods are willing,
And hungry hours need killing,
Fate matters not, as
It’s really all one and the same.
 
When the sky is hinting at blue,
I will savor the morning dew
And then close my eyes,
Turn my back to the glinting flame,
 
Just to wander through yesterdays,
Moments wasted a million ways
When the nights were long
And the stars were calling my name.

Endless Stairs
Why go down?
I’ll just have to come up again

carrying as much as my arms can hold
so as not to waste the trip
and then come down to bring back the things I carried up before.
Up and down,
down and up,
​more and more.

Impatient Apparitions

Windows open on a windy day.
All the ghosts come out to play,
Fluttering curtains, 
Slamming doors,
Not waiting for dark
To haunt these floors.

Cruelty of Ice

    As hours amass and days pass by,
    The Wind grows cold, its wintry sigh. 
    Leaves once green, relent to gold,
    Tired and old,                                                    And soon covered by a snowy net
    Captured for three months too many.
             
              see more...
               

The Patriarch

From the narrow slit in the door
I saw him there,
Commanding
The space of his leather chair,
Reading the news with a steady eye.
I watched him silent, not wanting to pry.
Such a man he will always be.
That’s all the door-slit would let me see.

Wednesday 12/13/2014


​Basket crackles
Doubling down
Nonsense writing
​Frowning clown

​

Nature vs. Art

Finely crafted art or nature flowing free.
One is simply shown, the other artistry.
 
Darkly furrowed brow or eyes gently closed.
One a concrete thought, the other supposed.
 
Beauty lies within, structure stands without.
Shapes form, then change, acquiring doubt.
 
What fool measures nature and art?
So intertwined, why tell them apart?

Regret

Going forwards backwards
Tail into the wind
I can’t see what is to be
Only what’s already been

Pretending

This is me pretending
     to sleep like a lioness
         who never sleeps

This is me pretending
     to glide like a swan
          with furious feet beneath

This is me pretending
     to laugh like a hyena
          hunting the edge of madness

This is me pretending
     to soar like a hawk
          wings beating furiously
               swifting me away

Crickets
Screeching crickets
Pierce the ears
Ever-deafening
A thousand years
Evolution
Stagnant science
Wish for silence
August
Good-bye August
Good-bye Moon
Darkness fades
Into noon
Softened hearts
Summer late
Grasping hands
Separate

Better Off

...and there were two or three or four
How many, I couldn't tell.
Perhaps, it's just as well.

A Proper Scream

A proper scream shreds the air
​And leaves no room for Wonder

​

Come Summer's End


​Say goodbye to hearth fires 
    and icy landscapes white
Say goodbye to chilly breath,
    sugar on snow, hot cocoa
Bid adieu to ice skates and             sleds
Wave away your coats and             scarves
Winter's gone for now
​
Spring is here for now
Say hello to blooming trees,
    southern breeze
Welcome in the warming sun
Come summer's end
We will dream
    of the first snow again

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Books
  • Social
  • About
  • Poetry
  • Stories
  • Contact