Poems by Louise Driscoll

Winter comes grimly
And cleans house.
Blowing all the leaves away.
The field mouse
Burrows be...

The desert has one god, the Great Lord Sun.
Death is his servant, as the jackals know
That fo...

What do you dream, O Stream, as you sleep so long?
Hint of the black morass where your mother ...

I met the rain today in an open place,
The young rain, adventuring, she danced as she came al...

Dead men blossom,
The world's a green tomb,
Dust and the brown seed
In a blue room. ...

I am like a pine tree
On a lone hill.
My garden is all bare,
My birds are still. Oh, ...

The sorry prayers go up to God
Day after weary day,
Whimpering through the eternal blue
And d...

When my hills stand ablaze with gold and red,
And I can hear the harsh-voiced leader cry
As wi...

The crystal shiver of an icicle
That falls from a bank where the runnels are deep,
The last th...

You write to me about roses,
About roses opening as roses die.
Always, you say, there are ro...

A strange thing the preacher said,
And proved it by the Book.
He told all people who could hea...