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Glass House Poetry by Joanne Benedetto

Glass House Poetry
Welcome to the poetry of Joanne Benedetto
Thanks to my husband, Peter
Who sees things I don't.


An Old Brick
The eroding surface of an old brick, Lies hidden under a carpet of moss, And lichen, laying low where it is thick, Remains, and it was...
Joanne Benedetto


An Apple
A filly takes an apple through the gate, Although, rotten and riddled with a worm. It doesn’t matter if the flesh is firm. She snorts and...
Joanne Benedetto


Air
No reason to hide This unbodied bride, Too airy for breath, Undying for death, As gravity fails Against weightless veils, And force has...
Joanne Benedetto


Aging
Accepting, finally he needs a cane, He will use it however with disdain, His face, robust in younger days, is pale, Although he has his...
Joanne Benedetto


A Secret's Weight
She raised the scissors to cut off her braid, Since having grown too old for girlish ways, Black circles lay beneath her vacant gaze. ...
Joanne Benedetto


A Faberge Egg
A Faberge egg on its pedestal, So, intricate a beauty. I felt safe, But sensed the weakness you had for a waif, I, poetic and maybe...
Joanne Benedetto


A Drowning Youth
The wolf desires a taste of innocence, He seeks what no one else is looking for, For one who is of little consequence, Yet in his claws,...
Joanne Benedetto


A Memoir
The ocean speaking from its mystery, Your flute sang out to a ceiling of stars, So close to heaven on that lifeguard chair, Where in a...
Joanne Benedetto


A Glass House
The television is set to the news, With a blizzard in Rochester this year, A reporter tells us the wind is severe. Sitting there, snow...
Joanne Benedetto


The Statue
The children kneel beside the virgin’s feet, The holiest of women. There I wept, Was it for joy or sorrow? Then I stepped Closer, in...
Joanne Benedetto


Stay with Me
Stay with me for a while, the night will close Its doors, after we enter them, the moon Illuminates our footsteps, but suppose We walk...
Joanne Benedetto


Redwood Trees
A cave was cut into the redwood tree, Sealed with a residue of ash and tar, The blackened bark, the fire-stricken scar, A forest...
Joanne Benedetto


The Geisha Doll
A little hoodlum steals the geisha doll, In Chinatown, a place she likes to go. They will not notice her, being so small, Or miss the...
Joanne Benedetto
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