3 Poems by Jeanie Greensfelder

Hypnos, God of Sleep

He creeps into my bed,
envelops me,
erases my worries,
and together
we dream.

But on those nights
when he doesn’t show,
and I know he’s out
sleeping with others,
I wait and watch and
add him to my worries.

He ruins my nights,
disturbs my days,
and he never listens.

My counselor says,
You’re stuck with him.
Calm him with chamomile,
soothe him with love talk.

That night he watches
as I brew his tea,
bathe, dab lavender,
turn on Brahms,
and get into bed early,
hoping he’s pleased,
hoping he stays the night.


The Homestead
            …a farm that is no more a farm.
                                    “Directive”--Robert Frost

Growing up on a Kentucky farm,
she fed the pigs and chickens,
picked beans and strawberries,
lugged water from the well,
carried wood for weekly baths,
shivered in the cold outhouse,
and when she was old enough,
she left and never looked back,

except that one trip, cross-country,
when she tried to find
the town that was no more a town,
the farm that was no more a farm,
and stood there in a field looking
like she’d lost the Grail goblet,
and wanted to sip once more,
to find the sweet in the bitter.


Me and My Shadow

Sun low in the sky,
I walk my shadow, watch
the long black of me
stretch tall across the road.

A car drives past
and my shadow lifts,
flows over hood, roof, and trunk
to lie back down on the pavement.

Ah, to have my shadow’s skill
not to get run over by life—
to flow over obstacles
and keep on walking.


Bionote

Jeanie Greensfelder's poetry memoir, Biting the Apple, Penciled In, 2012. evokes Joseph Campbell's "sorrowful joys and joyful sorrows." Her poems have been published in Askew, Orbis, Echoes, Grand, Kaleidoscope, Porter Gulch Review, Poetic Medicine Journal, Riptide, If and When, and Vine Leaves. Her poems can be seen monthly at http://slocoastjournal.com/docs/geniespocket.html geniegreensfelder@gmail.com