-
Join 2,510 other subscribers
Follow this blog
-
Recent Posts
Archives
whimsy gizmos
Blogroll
Click to check out these blogs I stalk. (They rock!)
- Across the Lake, Eerily (Marie Elena & Walt)
- Awakened Words (Mark Windham)
- Bootless Cries (Anne Katherine)
- Conversations with Laurie (Laurie Kolp)
- Cracker Jack Poet (Sara Vinas)
- Drift of Bubbles (Diana Domino)
- Felt-Tip Fountain Pen (poetcolette)
- Fights With Poems (Daniel Ari)
- Hannah Gosselin's Poetry
- I Hate Poetry (Buddah Moskowitz)
- Iain Kemp Poetry
- Imagine – Pearl Ketover Prilik
- Kim King's Blog
- Linda Goin's Blog
- Magic in the Backyard (Kellie)
- Misky's Poetry
- Mousetales Press (Linda Hatton)
- One Inch Tall – Catherine Lee
- Our Lost Jungle – Khara House
- Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer
- Poetic Bloomings (Marie Elena and Walt)
- Poetic Echoes and Dancing Shadows (Nikki Markle)
- Purple Pen in Portland (Sara McNulty)
- Rosemary Mint (Shawna)
- Sharp Little Pencil (Amy Barlow Liberatore)
- The Chime – Phil Canon
- The Man with the Blue Guitar (Vince Gotera)
- The Poet Tree (Sharon Ingraham)
- Through the Eyes of Meena Rose
- Wander, Ponder, Poem & Pix (Pamela Smyk Cleary)
- Whatever and Ever (Chev Shire)
- When Words Escape Me (Paula Wanken)
Copyright Info
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Tag Archives: moon
meanwhile the moon
fancies herself a flowerin a field of star -seeds, (growing) glowingfrom the soil of sky. ::
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged flower poems, full flower moon, moon, nature poems, star seeds
9 Comments
one last flabbergasp
this poem is all a-flutter, a-mutter-ment of swallowed moon and muddled sun. she’s one (i am-bic) foot in, three (blank) sheets to the wind and counting. she’s a fountain of be -wild-erment, a copper sunrise penny spent on dandelion wisheswith fluff-fine handles. {bring candles.} she’s throwing a surprise party of … Continue reading
Posted in April PAD 2023
Tagged balloons, blank sheets, flabbergasp, iambic feet, last poem of April, moon, sun, surprise party, this poem poems, whew
2 Comments
Oops.
I think maybe we released these fragile dreams too soon. But you don’t owe me anything. Any more than the sun need pardon the moon. ::In April, she poems.
moonshadow (a shadorma)
we ask her why she waxes, waneshowls herself (wolf) insane(snow, buck, pink, blue, hunter, cold).we’re fools, told she’s full. ::In April, she poems. Sometimes in form.
Unpenned Ink & Other Liquid Types
Take a minute. Wipe your tears. Wind the clock hands back (clack black),trace your words on wounded skin and tear your poems in two. Close your eyes. Bow to the sun. Tell the wind she’s woundthat face one minute trace too soon. Lean close to the stars,tie a bow on the moon. :: In April, she poems.
Loose Thoughts Caught by My Pillowtalk Blur
The sky’s (somehow) chartreuse, and (wow!) there go all these paper poemkites loosed to wind. The moon’s a lavender lozenge and I’ve got hum-mingbird wings, and dragon skin. We live in the trees, breeze-lullabied and ample-limbed, writing merry manifestos in chalk. Watch the river spill, it’s filled with limoncello and our rafts … Continue reading
Posted in April PAD 2023
Tagged dream poems, dreams, loose thoughts, moon, pixie sticks, sky poems, stars, sun, treehouses
4 Comments
and the sky played on
she never knew the moon was made of music, orion belting out the blues. and then she flew, mad as midnight, wild as stars. ::In November, we poem.
Posted in November Chapbook 2022
Tagged midnight, moon, most mad and moonly, music, Orion, orion's belt, sky poems, we're all mad here, wild, wild as stars
3 Comments
moonsquabble
:: hand to hand we stand against the goblin of her glow :: In November, we poem.
aubade (in the key of d)
(minor) morning breaks her open, flames too soon. she’s already mourningdarkness, stars and a sinking treble-trembled moon.
Posted in moon poems, November Chapbook 2022
Tagged aubades, key of de, moon, morning, music, treble
3 Comments
Miss Guiding Light
That fat full wily wench is a liar, you know. She steals (light) our hearts And makes us feel infinite. Plot twist: We’re not. ::In November, we poem.