Once upon a time (a really long while ago), there was a poetry meme that went around and I found the most beautiful little poem entitled “ Like Anne Shirley’s House“, which, unsurprising, completely captivated me.

I’ve since become a fan of Faye George’s poetry in general, at least those that I can find online. The language is sparse but rich in imagery. Here are two that I’ve especially liked.

ONLY THE WORDS

No one cares:

not the professor
of rhetoric
bored by all
but his own experience;

not the editor
who, in at least
two languages,
has heard it all;

not even
your good friend
who does her best
to listen;

only the words–
the words that rise
from their accustomed tasks
to lead you

deliberately
through ferns
and phonemes
into the woods,

where you must dig
for roots,
fish from the deepest part
of the stream.
-Faye George

WHY THE GOOSE WENT BACK

I miss the scrape of spiked boots on the groundsel
at evening, the iron creak and slam of the door.
The stroke and pet of his hard hand gave the days
their meaning. Jack, can you understand?

In dreams I return beyond the beanstalk, fly
to my old home in the clouds.
Here it is safe, but the thought he needs me
pecks at the eye of peace.

I yearn for the oaken sound of his stride.
What you call bondage,
I would purchase with my last gold ounce.
For the smell of leather and mead, I would sell
my soul.

-Faye George