by Carolyn Martin

1. Exhausted sheep have left the room.
Too many nights fence-jumping beneath
too many pounds of wool, they head
for pastures greener and compassionate.

2. A poem that needs revisioning complains
it can’t stand my niggling about
aggravating adjectives or whether
it should settle for tercets and quatrains.

3. A review of my past loves prompts me to grab
note cards and pen. I need to validate
my shy smile, smooth skin, and the way
I made love when I didn’t have a clue.

4. I’m convinced insomnia is easier to bear
than nightmares that precede each class I teach.
My lectures are nonsensical. Students stampede
out. My voice dangles in mid-air.

5. Daylight, the crows announce from the cherry tree.
I ball up my sweaty sheets and air the bedroom out.
The neighbors are easing off to work.
I’ll search for mine in today’s hazy dreams.

Blissfully retired in Clackamas, OR, Carolyn Martin is a lover of gardening and snorkeling, feral cats and backyard birds, writing and photography. Her poems have appeared in more than 130 journals throughout North America, Australia, and the UK. She is currently the poetry editor of Kosmos Quarterly: journal for global transformation. Find out more about Carolyn at www.carolynmartinpoet.com.

Cadralor: A five-part poem. Each short, unrelated stanza has basically the same structure and is filled with images that can stand on their own. The fifth stanza answers the question, “For what do you yearn?”