The Tower Journal

Rhonda Poynter

Lately, I Have Been Dreaming of Van Gogh's Last Paintings

The wheat fields and sky and
The churches and empty
Chairs, and
Still life - now, when I fall asleep
There are tables and bottles and
Perfect oranges.

I have been dreaming about
Sandstone cottages and
Women adorned in red ribbons:
They call me by my name, to come
Bend to the roots and the
Soil beneath morning, the
Sun a halo.


You're a foreign star or a
Small round stone:
A letter that never made it home -

You're half-hitched bones,
Pale as shells;
A fragile birch, a soundless bell.

You're a haunted house in a
Summer storm;
Another bankrupt Indiana farm,

And a handful of words,
A secret rhyme.
You're a clock that had no use for time:

Love, you're more than blondness
And still blue eyes -
Immaculate, you're forever


Copyright © 2016 Rhonda Poynter

Rhonda Poynter  has been a professional freelancer for over twenty years, and some of her most recent credits are a pending podcast episode with No Extra Words, Ekphrastic, Triggerfish, Red Fez, sleet, vox poetica, Blue Bear Review, Wascana Review, Houseboat, The Lake and other publications and anthologies. Her second collection of poetry, 60 previously published pieces - Lullabye and Lately... among them - is titled Borrowed Time.  Finally, her son Gannon is seriously mentally and physically disabled, and due to his tendency to not being very vocal sometimes, her boy is "...the Silence that is the Starry Sky" (Wordsworth).  She will be grateful to be remembered as his mother.

The Tower Journal
Winter  2016