Grey hair in streaks, falling straight down. Friendship, translucent and strong as fishing line Books, stacks of texts, leaning. Paper birds, emerging from the wet, hempy mash Disagreement, and dissent. Chickens in the back 40. Raised boxes and their bees. Voice, a cool shaded pond. Bob. Tomorrow, empty canvas. — for Susan, Day 12, Poetry Month
Category: Writing
This is not content.
Haiku to a Moon
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Seventh day resting Balanced on land’s razor edge– Blood orange moon rises. -day 11, poetry month
My Kind of America
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Is it Me You’re Looking For?
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In Midair
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Another meaty metal body Dangles in midair. Barely seems Suspended; perhaps the Fog holds up its mass and All the lives within. Autopilot disengaged we Route around the weather Rather, we watch La La Land On matchbook screens and Clutch our dancing coffees While Dan the Man takes Berth around a storm maker. I pull down the…
I wonder what JFK would have to say
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I wonder what JFK would have to say If he, on the occasion of spring break, Found his flight cancelled. And thus re-booked for such an early a.m. Could not decline the logic of overnighting JFK Queens Radisson. Took the AirTrain to the hotel shuttle to The recently remodeled lobby and The second floor with…
Hold This Kitten, Would You?
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Hold this kitten, would you, While I trick you into Reading poetry. Whoops! Now you’ve done it, Got yerself all intellectified With words in stacks. Poetry, you decry! Save me! Not those tangled up knotted Ideas in shapely stanzas! Look out! She scratches. Still Got her claws. They frown on Hacking off cat digits these days. Ahhh,…
End of Day – Day 3 – Poetry Month
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End of day lends itself to Gathering ephemera. Unsorted, a day succumbs. It’s all detritus and last-minute noise Eardrums ringing, hippocampus Vibrating. The occurrence of Night surprising as a summer cold, As easily forgiven for the rest it gives. End of day, casting off aspersions Like stitches, or old dogs– What agreement did we conjure…
Everyday Compassion – Day 2 – Poetry Month
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It’s true I have trouble with you, With everyday compassion, Because It means forgiving the person Who drops poop bags to the ground– Listening between sarcastic comments for Pain and fatigue. Everyday compassion the Off-gassed namesake of Life. I’ll have to be More than OK with rigid people– Got to See myself in them, to Assume…
April Fools – Day 1 – Poetry Month
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No longer call it “Stranger danger”– Now let’s talk about the “Tricky adults” who chat up Eight year olds and their Baby brothers outside Emergency rooms (while a Mother’s ovary bursts)– Who beg for Help from babies. Two boys as vulnerable on a Bench as hatched Sea turtles on a seagull’s White sand buffet. Tricky adults who…
Got that Coming Around Again Feelin’
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Patti said: “I haven’t been writing much for fear of cyber-whining.” Ohhhh Patti. I hear you. I counted. There are TWELVE posts from the last six months in my blog’s draft folder that are almost 100 percent flushed out. But each time, when I got near the end and thought about hitting “PUBLISH” I stopped myself.…
The Gifts We Give and Get
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(This post is a part of the #reverb16… what’s that? Check it out!) Gifts giving and gift receiving is inevitable from here on out until the 25th and beyond. With that in mind, today’s prompt asks us to slow down and consider… Prompt 7: White Elephant: What are the gifts you’re looking forward to giving, or…
Sunny Surprise: Going Back in Time to 2012
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(This post is a part of the #reverb16… what’s that? Check it out!) The prompt for today’s #reverb16 calls for me to channel the warmth of the tropics (despite our New England locale). Prompt #6: Sunny Surprises. Most of North America starts to get frosty and cold this time of year. If you had an unusually warm…