Welcome to the April 2015 issue of brass bell, featuring poems by Phoebe Lakin
the gusty downpour
seen
from behind my tea steam
drizzly sunset
I smell the rain on me
the rain on you
if I am sad
then why are the stars
so bright?
gray day —
the lilac buds
have popped
a playground
so wet
and yet . . . no frogs
so many flowers
who will
count them?
cloudless day
under the forsythia
the sound of silence
amongst the gusts
of April wind
the first violets
too far to reach
the stars reflected
in the rain barrel
after the rain
in yellow boots
jumping puddles
wind chimes at 4 a.m.
the damp ocean breeze
smells of seaweed
nothing to gain
nothing to lose —
the summer flowers
in the sunlight
green green grass
and one white flower
under the weight of blossoms
this earth must be straining
to hold itself up
daffodils in a vase
the cupcakes
drab by comparison
wind creases the curtains —
tea bag wrappers
shudder like dried leaves
in my bedroom
two-day-old tea
and a sunset through green leaves
drizzly afternoon
those little white flowers —
what are they called?
honey candy
tastes of
cloud darkening skies
we are always ourselves
when we are by the sea
ah, how the sunset sparkles
summer night in a French garden
even the crickets
like the rain
on the train
apologizing to the face of a man
whose leather coat
is now
covered in my hot chocolate
***
Phoebe Lakin, a tea enthusiast, attends college in Cambridge,
MA. She likes reading, archaeology, and ancient Rome, and
hopes to live in the mountains someday.
MA. She likes reading, archaeology, and ancient Rome, and
hopes to live in the mountains someday.
