Lynda McKinney Lambert writes Poetry and Creative Non-Fiction Essays. Her book, “Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage,” was published by Kota Press and is available on Amazon. Her work has appeared in literary magazines, newspapers, academic books and journals since 1985. She is a retired professor of fine arts and humanities from Geneva College, Beaver Falls, PA. Currently, Lynda has 3 books in development for publication in 2017.
Nine Post Cards from Prague
I
Sapphire light mingles with deep red violet
behind spiky black twin spires
like a futuristic vision
my neck aches from bending backward
but my soul leaps forward to embrace
the evening that comes to Prague
like a dark, warm wool blanket
that wraps a weary traveler’s body
at the end of a long journey.
II
Tonight, I walked along stony paths
the dark Moldau sang to me
her voice lifted me up from the street
It was a duet - a finely tuned violin
and a velvet-throated cello
we crossed the wide bridge
keeping inside the dark shadows
I watched a long gray pigeon
fly through the last ray of light
coming home for rest
we continued searching
for the way back
to where the night begins.
III
I’m here in Prague
store windows dazzle
with ample treasures of amber
garnets and Bohemian glass
they bulge with heavy burdens of color
ask me to return again tomorrow
Come - walk inside of me
touch. hold.
I ask - what is the price?
how will I carry large glass flowers home?
how will they look when I place them
in a thick orange vase
from West Virginia?
IV
A small ink drawing hangs
on the wall in room 428
this familiar artist’s style
catches my eye again
this same drawing hangs
in my Pennsylvania home
last year in Prague
the artist stood alone
displaying his drawings
on Sunday morning
a proud businessman
I bought several
the price was too low.
V
I sit alone
on the edge of the spiral tide
in the center of this night
my thoughts churn – I’m in a labyrinth
made of ocean waves
soon you will embrace me
we will walk away together.
VI
One by one
he looked at each passport
he wears two stars on each shoulder
an eight-pointed star on his chest
a gun on his right hip
foolish students giggle in the back of the bus
one asks if he speaks English
he asks if they speak Czech
all laugh at his joke
he is thin and young
and departs with an English “Good Bye”
we occupied seven minutes of his day.
VII
It rains now
I took a final glimpse of Prague’s
translucent gray sky
that softens deep golden fields to mauve
distant trees turn from yellow-green
to blue wine mist-
I turn away.
VIII
Prostitutes take their places
along the road to Prague
they kneel down on the grass
wave at the tourists
arrange their few possessions.
IX
The late summer rains
swept away all our dreams
Preciously published in: "Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage." Kota Press, and The Kudzu Monthly,
“der Hirsch”
Aubergine fields reflect the red blood moon
throughout a bracing autumn night
transformed Yellow Crownbeard’s lemon-flowers
turned to thorny dark violet-brown seed pods
throughout a bracing autumn night
“I sense slight movements near the willow tree”
turned to thorny dark violet-brown seed pods
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
“I sense slight movements near the willow tree”
listen to swift waters surging downstream
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
der Hirsch strides silently on damp fall leaves
listen to swift waters surging downstream
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
der Hirsch strides silently on damp leaves
“I long to follow you – come away my beloved”
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
transformed Yellow Crownbeard’s lemon-flowers
“I long to follow you - come away my beloved”
aubergine fields reflect the red blood moon.
(Note: der Hirsch is German for “the deer” and Aubergine is French for "eggplant”)
Prague-Pixabay |
Nine Post Cards from Prague
I
Sapphire light mingles with deep red violet
behind spiky black twin spires
like a futuristic vision
my neck aches from bending backward
but my soul leaps forward to embrace
the evening that comes to Prague
like a dark, warm wool blanket
that wraps a weary traveler’s body
at the end of a long journey.
II
Tonight, I walked along stony paths
the dark Moldau sang to me
her voice lifted me up from the street
It was a duet - a finely tuned violin
and a velvet-throated cello
we crossed the wide bridge
keeping inside the dark shadows
I watched a long gray pigeon
fly through the last ray of light
coming home for rest
we continued searching
for the way back
to where the night begins.
III
I’m here in Prague
store windows dazzle
with ample treasures of amber
garnets and Bohemian glass
they bulge with heavy burdens of color
ask me to return again tomorrow
Come - walk inside of me
touch. hold.
I ask - what is the price?
how will I carry large glass flowers home?
how will they look when I place them
in a thick orange vase
from West Virginia?
IV
A small ink drawing hangs
on the wall in room 428
this familiar artist’s style
catches my eye again
this same drawing hangs
in my Pennsylvania home
last year in Prague
the artist stood alone
displaying his drawings
on Sunday morning
a proud businessman
I bought several
the price was too low.
V
I sit alone
on the edge of the spiral tide
in the center of this night
my thoughts churn – I’m in a labyrinth
made of ocean waves
soon you will embrace me
we will walk away together.
VI
One by one
he looked at each passport
he wears two stars on each shoulder
an eight-pointed star on his chest
a gun on his right hip
foolish students giggle in the back of the bus
one asks if he speaks English
he asks if they speak Czech
all laugh at his joke
he is thin and young
and departs with an English “Good Bye”
we occupied seven minutes of his day.
VII
It rains now
I took a final glimpse of Prague’s
translucent gray sky
that softens deep golden fields to mauve
distant trees turn from yellow-green
to blue wine mist-
I turn away.
VIII
Prostitutes take their places
along the road to Prague
they kneel down on the grass
wave at the tourists
arrange their few possessions.
IX
The late summer rains
swept away all our dreams
Preciously published in: "Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage." Kota Press, and The Kudzu Monthly,
“der Hirsch”
Aubergine fields reflect the red blood moon
throughout a bracing autumn night
transformed Yellow Crownbeard’s lemon-flowers
turned to thorny dark violet-brown seed pods
throughout a bracing autumn night
“I sense slight movements near the willow tree”
turned to thorny dark violet-brown seed pods
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
“I sense slight movements near the willow tree”
listen to swift waters surging downstream
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
der Hirsch strides silently on damp fall leaves
listen to swift waters surging downstream
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
der Hirsch strides silently on damp leaves
“I long to follow you – come away my beloved”
“tonight we watch the sky for celestial clues”
transformed Yellow Crownbeard’s lemon-flowers
“I long to follow you - come away my beloved”
aubergine fields reflect the red blood moon.
(Note: der Hirsch is German for “the deer” and Aubergine is French for "eggplant”)
Lynda McKinney Lambert