Tag Archives: clouds

cloud dragon

  magnetic poetry 

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A song of the stairway

(an invisible poem in the key of C) .. This poem cannot be seen, only sounded out one syll a bull at a time, sung in the key of clouds and candy-caress sighs. She’s wise in the ways of spirals, … Continue reading

Posted in dVerse poems, twiglets | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

Red Sky

… in mo(u)rning, we sing our sacred dawn-songs, allow the bell to toll for all we’ve lost. We’ve tossed and turned all night, held the world tight in trembling hands and too-full clouds with false linings. We’re pining for some … Continue reading

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Making Deals with Dragons

… They’ve got what we want – that secret fire, that picture-perfect pose and poise of embered strength. We can’t stop ………….(won’t stop; oh, don’t stop) coveting their wings; their unfolding. In case you’ve missed it, they’ve got a song, … Continue reading

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Far Better Dragons

… We have made wing improvements, see? When we spangle them just right, they take flight. They shine. We whine that we can’t do anything about the talons, the sharp-played edges that etch and cut and sting. But see, here’s … Continue reading

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Productivity Waning

… I started several things today, but there was a problem (or two, or three). You see, I’m a shiny object girl, a swirl of paint and chalk and heart-felt talk (no time for silly exchanges of how’s the weather? … Continue reading

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Busy as a bee{sting}

.. Pooh’s got a red balloon and a hankering for honey like nobody’s business. Be a cloud be a cloud be a cloud he saids (thinkthinkthink) but we all know some -times the ground’s closer than we …………..(think) hope. And … Continue reading

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Come Again, and Soon

.. We woo that wild and wily moon, ask her to stay. Her visits are brilliant, short, and waning. We whine. Try to wine and dine her with burgundy clouds, ebony scrim. She turns in her dark dress, golden tresses … Continue reading

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Stranger than Dragons

A short-term effect an echo and a stranger’s hand – The Cure .. The clouds have teeth again, and the echo …………(echo, echo) of skin and talons on whale-sized bones. They breathe in great fire hands that reach for nothing … Continue reading

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This Sky’s Got Bruises, Scars

.. The clouds are playing rugby again, scrum-scumbled into teams, scrambling for their silver linings. Move along now; these primo seats are ours. You’re dreaming if you think there’s a winner. Nothing to see here but sleepy wayward sheep shadow-baying … Continue reading

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments