Tag Archives: November PAD 2018

one more,with feeling

Posted on November 30, 2018 by whimsygizmo

  … in december, the poems are …w   h   e   w ……………………..{and far between.}     .

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One More Time for the People in the Back

Posted on November 30, 2018 by whimsygizmo

{a remix} The moon’s in a mood, (imagine her wild, midnight -maroon) shaky-swoon-spooned over sturdy skinned knees, driven breeze. This is her hour of burning hunger, quiet storm. She’s ivory sea, and I can’t quiet see her center. Praise these … Continue reading →

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Feeling fractured, not quite full

Posted on November 29, 2018 by whimsygizmo

(A praised day found) . Please forgive me for the song that loops around us now, this quiet separation from the ……….stars. We raise our tiny voices to the sky – doodler of dragons, an unsolvable equation of puberty and … Continue reading →

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i can’t imagine her wild

Posted on November 28, 2018 by whimsygizmo

{mood ring: forgiveness, and other disasters} i. midnight-maroon, for her darkest hour swoon, her great craving for protest and anti -hate, war. ii. gun metal gray for her weary worn heart and its shaky veins, brave un -broken beat. iii. … Continue reading →

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She’s found herself in ink and sky

Posted on November 27, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. , and silent salt. The squawking cry of hungry gulls. The broken praise of trees. She’s on her knees in dark -est hour, bone-tired and waiting. Forgive her, Father (Son, and wholly long-loved ghost); at most, she’s brave. She’s … Continue reading →

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Shaky Hands, Sturdy Chalk

Posted on November 27, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. When the words won’t flow, she smudges tiny poems.   .. In November, we poem.     

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small praise

Posted on November 25, 2018 by whimsygizmo

we raise our tiny voices to the sky, for we know the Who even when we don’t know the why. ..     This one was from the 22nd. Just forgot to post it here.     

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I Can’t Ketchup

Posted on November 25, 2018 by whimsygizmo

{Weighing the Pros&Con-diments} on poems. I must -ard(ently) ward off these fears and relish the thought of just inking away, come what may (oh) (naise.)     … I Can’t Erase These Words I have put them out into the … Continue reading →

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Dance of the Dissident Refrain

Posted on November 21, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. This poem is carrying a sign – hell, no, we won’t go! and finding herself lost in the dark hours of the morning with a grumbling stomach and a busted volume switch. Which way is against the grain? She … Continue reading →

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