©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.

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

Photograph ©2003 Anita Schiller

At times, we look out on the world
and gain a clearer view,
but often we must fall to earth
to witness what is true.

©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, Infinity Limited

He felt the world stop breathing yesterday,
And let the silence creep into his heart,
Then watched as if his spirit stood apart
Recording every dream that fell away.

©1995 Susan Noyes Anderson, Poetpourri

I remember the cat in better days, strutting
smugly through the soft, gold carpet, master
of his own paw-printed hallways, a silky legacy
on each duvet. I was an observer then, amused,

©1996 Susan Noyes Anderson, Poetpourri (poem only)

I almost divorced my body
a couple of years ago.
Certainly, we were separated.
Irreconcilable differences.

Or Beating the Compromised Host Unit Blues

©1993 Susan Noyes Anderson, Poetry Motel

The vertical blinds dissect
bright, broken patches of blue sky
and flowering trees of
verdant green,
color of life.

©1997 Susan Noyes Anderson, The Comstock Review

The day you killed me, I thought––What a drag––
and started making funeral arrangements.
I’d deal with all the requisite estrangements.
If dying was the task, then I’d die fine.