Poems By Sheri Harper
HIDDEN BLUE HERON
Down by sea-soaked pillars hewn from grown,
black-tarred against salt and shadowed,
we seek retreat despite sun-touched
waters rocking into fro. Our eyes
tack through crossed direction
find heron, who finds grace walking
slinking neck to body
slaking thirst with mites unearthed and unowned.
Like friend heron
we dress mauve silken feathers a-throat,
cap head with band like sky
weighted in future, afloat with wind.
Our night perch then, a private joke--
lightpost, a man-made tree.
Vulture-hooded, cloaked with night’s
trickster grays, our beak standing straight
under watchful eyes seldom seen
Kachina Lost
Once our ancestors dressed
in nature’s aspects of power,
painted skin with dyed-clay,
wore feathers and leathers of friends,
became a deity’s child.
People invoked their guise --
rains, thunder, winds and crops,
laughter, and mother’s enclosing arms,
taught young morality
and lessons learned over time.
Runners gave us discipline,
social dancers opened doors,
drums provided rhythmic tones,
chants underpinned story,
circle brought us closer home.
We felt the stub of pounded feet,
weight of costume. Our focused posture,
clack of beads, rub of hide, "hey-yeh" call,
and trickle of sweat let us connect
to spirits behind the mask.
Our faces lose nimbleness
as do our imaginations
as old ceremonies are set aside.
Still, the artisan’s knife slices our shape
out of cottonwood roots.
Sargent : Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose
Two blond sisters
dash round stargazers,
dust their noses
in Enchantment
hide behind pink roses
all in a hedge --
little firefly girls.
Their job to jounce
curled mops.
Their job to flounce
lace, ribboned, and
twirly Carmen skirts.
Midsummer’s eve
during Mother’s party.
Among the old fashioned
pinks -- Mrs. Sinkins,
Charlotte and Olivia,
they hold Chinese lanterns
while around them
fairy lights gleam
and flit among
night’s scented wonder--
carnation, lily, lily, rose.
Girl
The girl with wide-open arms
always smiles,
always runs,
if you but open yours.
The girl with wide shining eyes,
always poses,
skews the photo,
is hard to catch unaware.
The girl who cries big tears,
sniffs and hiccups,
and gets far too warm,
is never convinced she did wrong.
Such a girl wins your heart.
For all her sins,
her eyes, poses and open arms,
she catches you unaware.
Sheri Harper shares...
SHERI HARPER is a speculative fiction writer whose poems, articles, and short stories appear in a number of small markets including Springhill Review, www.nycBigCityLit.com, www.specusphere.com and Yellow Mama. She finds inspiration in art, nature, the endless possibilities of the future, and in the intellectual capacities of humans in finding new and clever ways of viewing their world.
The various motivations for these poems is her secret for the time being. Visit Sheri at www.sfharper.com.
