width=61 height=87> Voracious Verses



Donald Coonrod


I  remember, I remember
the house where I was born.
            Thomas Hood
Baby in a cradle
helpless, bound,
earth flowing by,
lost then becoming
sense and mind;
eyes opening, delicate
high pitched chords
wonderful to hear.
Yeats’ great rooted blossomer
covered with snow
holds memories as secret
as sex and soul; mother’s red
breasted berries so sweet,
are soon joined by brothers
and sisters flying in space,
riding out great storms.
Einstein’s rivers run to the sea;
life, unconcerned, sends us forth
with uncertainty—beautiful
bulbs of love survive, bursting up
from dark earth.

© 2008 Donald Coonrod


An unexpected breeze rises, a pleasant
draft of air that comes sometimes
in late winter warming the floating sky
and melting the pillowed snow.
Roof gutters come alive with a marching
beat, staccato drip—drip—drip—and I
follow the parade in my ears.
Suddenly I’m melting a little too,
soul juice flowing through my veins,
liquid expression with something to say,
something like joy.

© 2008 Donald Coonrod

About the Poet:

Donald Coonrod:   is a physician with a poetry avocation. His poetry has appeared in Coffee Press Journal, Pegasus, Prairie Poetry, Between Kisses, Ygdrasil, and Mid-America Poetry Review, among others. His first chapbook, Breathing Cup, has been published recently by Finishing Line Press and is also available at Amazon.com. Donald Coonrod is a member of the American Academy of Poets and the Kentucky State Poetry Society. his poetry site is: authorsden.com/jdonaldcoonrod.