©1981 Susan Noyes Anderson

If I don’t really have
some terrible
disease
and shouldn’t really be
laying
flat on my back
then
I’m a terminal
hypochondriac

©1994 Susan Noyes Anderson, The Lyric

What is this thing that draws me to the sea?
What passion rises with each white-capped swell
to churn upon a watery carousel
and break in frothy secrets, spilling free?

©1994 Susan Noyes Anderson, The Lyric

Image by Scott Webb from Unsplash

Old house, you held a family in your womb.
You stood upon the soil with warmth and grace,
a sanctuary and a birthing place,
nurturing life and love in every room.

©1992 Susan Noyes Anderson, Infinity Limited

I do not need thee; ‘tis a lie
to paint me weakened by thy charms.
Dost think thy sweeting feign would die
than leave the comfort of thine arms?

©1992 Susan Noyes Anderson, Infinity Limited

I speak to you of love
but words are vain,
like music played so oft
it loses charm.

©1993 Susan Noyes Anderson, Poetpourri

finding fear full-flavored
nutty, crunchy
they move nothing
rapt consumers

©1994 Susan Noyes Anderson, Mobius

My body is electric when
I’m walking to Vivaldi;
I shed years and pounds in minutes
moving to Rossini’s beat.

©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, His Children, Vantage Point Press

(Photograph ©2003 by Anita Schiller)

Beauty cannot enter where we do not leave a friendly space.
Poems began as empty pages, masterpieces as a trace.

Every note must stand alone before it makes a lullaby.
Every tree has greater stature viewed against a naked sky.