Denise Gillette

Indianapolis, Indiana, USA

Denise has been a poetry fan since high school and started seriously writing poetry in 1996. She is a graduate from Indiana University with a degree in Sociology. She is currently pursuing a teaching certificate in secondary education. In addition to poetry, she also writes short stories and stories for children. Her writings have been published by The National Library of Poetry. She is active in hiking, camping, and running. Her poetry reflects upon the relationships between man and nature and she says that she likes to express hope and optimism in an ever dynamic world.

Dolphin Serenade

Deep hues of blue sparkle like sapphire marbles.
The ocean floor maps the story of the world.
Anabas to Homo sapiens - a blue print of
civilization, a tale of triumph and carnage.
Dolphins sing sorrowful serenades.

Harvest moon, opaque like opals, reflects the sea.
Earns cry, fluttering in the moon-lit sky.
The depths echo epochs of time.
Atlantis murmurs - Long forgotten.
Dolphins sing in the calm serene.

Torrents of rain - gust chilled, whip
through the snow white tides. Poseidon
conducts his orchestral maneuvers in the
dark black. Vessels bravely face their perils,
rocking to and fro. Dolphins troubadour.

Apollo's chariot carts in the sun showering
its golden rays atop the cool green earth.
Seaweed softly sways against the salmon-colored coral.
Delightful dolphins romp the aqua waves --
Serenading the world with melodies of wishful expectations.

Doe Land

Cruising State Road 421 I spied a deer leaping in frenzy.
Bold, timid, its white-tail stood out against the cornfield
and uprising suburban homes of brick and dull fabricated wood.

Days past, this genteel doe roamed the fields and wood;
an endless virgin territory not trod on by man, now eagerly
sold, opening up space for strip-malls - a Mecca for the
hungry bearing plastic of gold and platinum.

The deer scampered into the forest, merging with nature.
Sadly, I pondered the "For Sale" sign posted by the road side.
The orb of the sun set as I wondered where that doe would run.

A Day at the Runcible Spoon

As the doors open to the Runcible Spoon
the bold aroma of coffee draws the people in.
Hot Java and crusty scones with jam mingle with
the scanners of the news. Light chit-chat fills the air.
Spoons jingle and cups clatter. The sun shines brightly.

The afternoon beckons in crowds of philosophers
sipping on their espressos and voicing their views.
Loners sit at corner tables perusing novels,
partaking in cafe au lait. Clove cigarettes
haze in front of the sun dazed windows.

Evening summons in students, piling the tables
with tiresome textbooks, pounding down caffeine.
Light folk music drones in the background.
Birkenstocks tap on the bright tiled floors.
Cappuccino machines buzz. Dusk filters in.

So much goes on in the course of the day.
Ideas discussed, problems solved, tasks toiled upon.
Friendships spawn, debates roar, pawns move across
the board. So much hope to change the world --
All done in a day from the Runcible Spoon.