Tag Archives: morning poems

mercies new

Posted on April 2, 2022 by whimsygizmo

we can rue this day all we want, rant its shortcomings and moan its faults,  but there’s always another one another run another sun  waiting in the wings.  :: In April, we poem.

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Aubade with Yolk on Its Face 

Posted on November 9, 2021 by whimsygizmo

:: And suddenly the day’s cracked open like a broken storm,with me alone at center.  :: In November, we poem. This one’s an aubade.

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snailstone

Posted on March 21, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… scribble-scrabble your morning away, under a rising grapefruit sun. just like ………………me.     ..     ,,

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sticky fingers and sunshine

Posted on March 21, 2017 by whimsygizmo

..   those grapevines spilled over into our yard from theirs, and my tiny people liked to be lifted up to borrow a juicy burst of morning with hungry crimson hands.   .. Twiglet #16.   

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Still Pondering Crows

Posted on March 16, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. She knows there are other things to pause and poem (the light in that window there, the flapping rooster man on the corner, the whisper of snails) , but she cannot seem to get past the ebony apostrophes of … Continue reading →

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The One where it Dawns on Her

Posted on September 30, 2015 by whimsygizmo

(aubade for all things broken) .. For more than ever, I have wanted something more than all this strugg -led skin, wanted to shrug my shoulders and shed my shoulds, fill my scars with stories. See that place beside the … Continue reading →

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jest, a minute

Posted on September 25, 2015 by whimsygizmo

.. what a joke one breath can be. (there it goes. did you miss it?) there’s a particular significance to morning. (now it’s over. did you kiss it?) i think perhaps my san -ity is slipping. i am currently consorting … Continue reading →

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breathing lessons

Posted on May 27, 2015 by whimsygizmo

  prompted by poetic asides

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wet word dance

Posted on May 18, 2015 by whimsygizmo

    magnetic poetry

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The Upstairs Girlfriend Chronicles

Posted on May 8, 2015 by whimsygizmo

. This morning, chuffed and sharp cuffed, heart linked to the rising sun, he is smug -gler of coffee and cronuts, contraband worthy of its brown cardboard wrapping. Swirl the milky cream into its depths, clearing your ………………(heart) mind of … Continue reading →

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