James Hartsell

Arlington, Washington, USA

Poems are written by the intellect, or by the heart. Those that come from the intellect speak to a few. Those that come from the heart speak to the many. As we grow older, we understand that the most profound concepts are revealed in simplicity, that true beauty is simply profound. As a poet, to capture that beauty and flesh it with words is my goal.

I welcome new friends. Email: wintersong@msn.com

The following poems are dedicated to all of our lost children, and the child in all of us seeking redemption.

Crushed Blossoms

I think of sins committed long ago,
when first the limbs began to bud.

I think of blossoms crushed capriciously,
unseen by lover's eyes.

I think of paying for the fragrance lost
by flowers not yet bouqueted.

I mourn for all the years we bore the guilt
of him who crushed them.

Early Spring

Bitter wind and bright green buds...
too soon...too late?
Who knows the whims of nature?

They flow upon a stream
until the suns of unborn spring
stir their slumbering dreams.

They rush with eager faith,
bursting forth with petal jewels
beneath earth's golden crown.

And there they wait,
interned in frozen tears.

Redemption

When summer comes
and lushes earth with green bouquets
to shelter creatures deep within,
the heart remembers times
when glee took flight on wings
of simple things-
brown children,
barefoot slipping through earth's ecstasy,
eyes worshipping the sky,
overflowing wonder
like water from a dipper
baptizing future sins.