..
she wears a scarf
of scribbled poem fluff,
just thick enough
to
……………(warn)
warm
us. and her voice cracks
open this one last stone
of truth:
the day’s a storm
of sting and silence
and we’re all just
waiting for that flower
umbrella’d hope.
.
A second offering for today’s Q44. I’m hosting. Come play!
..
The stars are sharp
tonight, tongues of fire
that freeze and float
…………..and fall,
and we wish
they would un-Braille
….us, sing
these syllables
in a language we might
hear and
…………..know.
The moon?
……..She’s just
a golden-throated swallow
with a voice of stone.
..
It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and I’m hosting. Come play!
awwww, sorry buddy, I say
to the quite dead crow
on my way into vons.
he’s a black asphalt pancake
now, but i wonder if aliver-him
was there for spice, or
salt. not his fault
everything’s moving
so fast.
..
Written for Poetic Asides.
Tempt us not,
for we are waiting
for the hot hot breath
of dragon summer breeze,
the way the trees can sway
a soul. The balmy blame of sea.
Thread us not
through flotsam fleet
nor pirate plea for treasured
land, the tempered hand of sun on
cooling face. The blind erase and trace
of nothingness that only moon can bring.
..
Lil’s got a fun prompt for us over at dVerse Poetics today. Come play!
We rise, apprised
of nothing.
We sip
sink
thirst
think,
and sigh
at clouds.
We carve our secret names
out loud on caves
and canvas,
steep our skin in freckled
fret. Then
that big hope-balloon-moon
breaches the horizon,
reminding us
we’re not home
yet.
…
It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and Mish has a great word for us today.
Come play!
There’s a wonder
to the places where water
folds into land,
where the taste of salt
on lips is magic.
Dig your toes in deep
and steep your heart
in Blue. Watch the moon
plop in,
full and fat
and content only
to be consumed.
Sift your soul
in seaglass,
and you’ll never
be the same.
And when you get back
home,
just hold the world
softly,
and wish
for rain.
..
Written for Poetic Asides.
