Left Unlatched

A book of poetry by R. T. Sedgwick
available on Amazon.com. Below
are a few of the poems. Enjoy!

Commands of the Wind

Come down from your pine-covered hill
through clumps of wild daisies
step along the rocky path,
chill of morning deep inside you,
your own walking keeping you warm
and let the sun as it climbs its own hill
reflect a brightness on the lagoon below,
giving depth to the sea-birds—cormorants
egrets, ducks and herons—look around,
reeds bending in the breeze, soil
giving beneath your feet and remember,
as though you had picked some daisies
and are holding a bouquet of them
over the water’s edge and you see their
reflection along with your own smiling face
and the willingness of your ruffled hair
to obey the commands of the wind

The Moon is a Stone Gone Mad
after Richard Shelton

All the stones
on the hill
feel its pull

the elder stones
their younger sons
stones of the night

whispering white stones
sedentary stones
stones of age and youth

but the old stones won’t budge
as their young seek out streams
to move them like small moons

old stones won’t follow the moon
content to stay where they are
sit on their butts and grow moss

when the young fall asleep
the old stones talk of sins
conjured up from their past

sins of when they roamed
they themselves gone mad
like the moon they strayed

now it’s their turn
to teach the young
about the moon

all the stones
on the hill
feel its pull


You’d think a simple jig-saw
puzzle piece like me
tucked away in a cardboard box
with friends of various color
and shape would be content
but what if I told you
I don’t fit

I’m interlocking
and vaguely rectangular
tab on one of my short sides
blanks on the other three
blue as though part
of a cloudless sky

Upon first glance you might think
I look like all the others

Years ago somebody put me
in the wrong box
I’ve lived here in pain ever since

I’ve been dumped
pushed around
turned right side up
picked up
fondled and squeezed
into other tabs or blanks
where I never was meant to be

Then at the end
left out of the picture altogether

Somebody is always
picking me up and saying
This guy doesn’t fit
he must be extra
but they never throw me away

Back in the box I go
thinking that somewhere
a finished puzzle
with one missing piece
is yearning for me

To Cheryl

I planted a rose,
a Midas Touch.
Who knows,
it may not seem like much
to you, but it means a lot to me.
When hints of sorrow loom
I know its vibrant yellow bloom
will in some ways be
like a crutch
that helps me weave from room to room
she, the bride and I, the groom.
Her life’s no longer in time’s cruel clutch
but her love is abloom
in the Midas Touch!





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