Scribbling in the Margins of a Day Already Done

{a Golden Shovel poem}

 

The sun has risen once again, and I
am full of spin and the too-tried must
-y scent of syllables with not enough to say.

Today, there’s nothing like the quiet I’m
keeping, held here fast by the dangerous damn
-ing dawn of the torn, the wicked worn, and tired.

 

..

For Mish’s awesome “last lines” prompt at dVerse, a Golden Shovel poem using The Cruel Sea by Nicolas Monsarrat (1951). The book’s last line reads: “I must say I’m damn tired.”  I have not read the book; I bought it for its beautiful old turquoise cover, to eventually smudge up with erasure poems.

 

 

 

 

 

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murmur stone

 

 

A second Quadrille offering, created at magnetic poetry

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daisy roar

she boasts a mane, after
all, the right to call
sun to center. white
-petalled promises with up
-roarious squalls of lovesme,
lovesmenot. we’ve got
her in our fists, given her
too much power. spent
hours hoping over flowered
phrase, faces sky raised,
praying to soar.

 

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It’s Quadrille Monday – my favorite! – over at dVerse, and I’m hosting. Come play! 

 

 

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secret poetry

 

magnetic poetry

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moon bare and blue

magnetic poetry 

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groovy mystery {no rules cool}

 

 

magnetic poetry 

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sweet spirit shine

magnetic poetry 

 

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