broken

..

too much
has gone
……………un

…………………… – spoken.

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stress, unstress

..

hold me close, now, tiny stanza,
the dactyls and trochees are coming
and i’ve nothing but a quill
and a song. don’t we belong

to each other? if i refrain
from stepping on your feet,
will you buy me a ticket
for the quatrain? let’s fade

away into this sunburned sky,
just you and i (and maybe
one small spondee…they’re
cute, and they don’t eat much.)

 

.
today, napowrimo encourages us to address the poem.

 

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Spangled

..

Get your own
dragon.

I have embellished
mine just so,
adorned her neck
with popcorn and poetry,
and tiny baubled bits
………….of sky.

She fancies feathers,
looped leathers,
a spark
-led collar of jade
and jasper, jangled
loose to catch the sun.

I’ve ground the moon
(in her bluest phase)
and smudged in precisely
one thimbleful of sea.

Her scaled skin’s
of mermaid fins and
finest jasmine tea.

Her fire? A crimson scar
…….-let burn
-ished blaze of cinnamon
and sprinkled sage, poppy
……………petals dancing.

I’ve laced her lashes
with lavender and indigo
shiver, the shimmer of
silence with a hint of
song.

She longed to be
exquisite, see? Strong,
and full of
…………….shine.

 

 

 

.

 

 

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Drop in. Support. Group.

Screenshot 2015-04-15 15.55.16

It’s a whole new world
……………………………….of sunny days and sage,
trampoline spirits
………………….queen-size sleep
…………………………………………………………silent art.

Moose hunters eye the
…………………………harvest, fall in zones.

Two rivers winter,
……………………..aikido,
mostly waltz,
making
…………………….a way to get
home.

..


Playing PoMoSco with Margo some days, and today’s was fun. ;)
I couldn’t find a real community bulletin board easily, so I stole one online.
Click here for links to check out Margo’s piece, and some other talented found poemers.


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Sharp

(a shadorma)

she plays it
long and low and slow
but she’s still
too high to
know how deep it cuts this time.
he swallows her song.
 

 

..

 

 

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half-baked

..

too chewy?
too tender?

forgive me.

some of my poems
are
still gooey
in the center.

 

 

..

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Heavy



He ain’t, you know
(my brother). He’s just another
light
in this diamond
encrusted
sky.

So much depends,
really, and what he’s
tucked in his pockets
on any given
Tuesday
(stones unthrown, foreign coins,
sticks of dynamite,
ticks of time)

and of course,
how far we get
carried away.

 

 

..
PAD, day 15.

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