Inverse Thoughts

By Spencer

There is no available information at this time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462891771

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Spencer.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2011910345

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4628-9176-4

ISBN: Softcover      978-1-4628-9175-7

ISBN: Ebook          978-1-4628-9177-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

100925

Dedication

To Susana, without whose encouragement these

poems would still be scribbles on envelopes.

CONTENTS

1) Late Snow

2) The Hero

3) City Snow

4) Machu Picchu

5) Tree Flag

6) Poem Rainbow

7) Economics

8) Memory Shards

9) The Predator

10) Stay or Go

11) My Dream

12) Three Gorges Dam

13) Afghan Elegy

14) Stuck Song

15) Love

16) Cormorants

17) Savoir Faire

18) Fade To Black

19) I Am A Dog

20) Poem Kitchen

21) In Memoriam

22) The Poets’ Hour

23) Democracy

24) Hands

25) Pro Basketball

26) Jacaranda

27) We

28) The Path To Terrorism

29) Dark Park

30) I, Bichon

31) Crusades

32) Grandpa

33) By Your Leave

34) My Brother

35) Trees

36) The Iceberg

37) The Road

38) P.T.S.S.

39) About Me

40) Rain

41) Night Snow

42) Life

43) Hope

44) Birds of a Feather

45) Winter Snow

46) Woman

47) Air

48) Tai Chi

49) Slim

50) City Park

51) Ski Snow

52) Planetrise

53) The Service

54) Deja Vu

Late Snow

I saw a robin in the snow.

He wasn’t happy there, I know.

He tried to make a little song.

It came out weak and sounded wrong.

I said to him, You should migrate.

but he wouldn’t leave his frozen mate.

I picked him up and brushed him off.

He responded with a little cough.

He moved a wing, but couldn’t fly

and a little tear clouded his eye.

I pocketed the body of his cold dead mate

and hoped, for him, that we weren’t too late.

We went in the house to the fireside.

He clutched my finger for the ride.

I placed them both on the hearth of brick;

thinking, to save him, I must be quick.

I went to find him a little feed

and found a package of old bird seed.

But, when I returned, I was too late.

He had fluttered off to join his