Tag Archives: plums

{this time}

, this poem will answer to no one, all flailing phrase and devil -may-care. she might even leave bald spots here or       there. last time she tried to get the words just right in rows and lines all cleaned and … Continue reading

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love poem

.. this poem is that red, red rose that summer’s day the craving of mouth, voice, hair ………….(silent and staring) those cloudless climes and starry skies …………………….(dying, disappearing.) more thicker than forget, it’s counting the ways those moments of glad … Continue reading

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I am this (and all) poem(s).

.. I am Orion’s belt, loosed. The lightning in your eyes. I am the plums. (Forgive me.) I am all thumbs, and nonesuch things hitchhiking on dragon kite strings. I am your heart, carried in mine. I am the snowy … Continue reading

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This Is Still to Say

{in response to William Carlos Williams} .. I am sick of plums and that damn empty icebox which never has anything worth saving for breakfast Forgive me I am also not much worth saving   .. Poetic Asides November Chapbook … Continue reading

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This Is Just {Remixed} To Say

.. There were never any plums in that damn icebox in the first place to save for breakfast or otherwise Forgive me but you forgot to put them on the list   .. Remixed from day 17’s poem, and of … Continue reading

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 What I Meant To Say  

  I ate the plums to spite you which was probably why you left before breakfast Forgive me you were so mean and so cold   .. Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 17. (With obvious nod to William Carlos … Continue reading

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On Wheelbarrows and Plums

… A wheelbarrow may be some -thing upon which much(ness) depends, but it is not my nom de plume, not that last plum you ate that was so cold. It has but one wheel, and a tendency for tipping over, … Continue reading

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for thought

..   (well caught), she (all thumbs) must ponder plums, plumb the depths of her own center stone.   … NaPoWriMo, day 6. You writin’ yet? Why not?         

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Artichokes and Amaranth

(Seed shopping on a Sunday)   .. There’s an entire alphabet here to be planted, a feast for our palates and our eyes and our ears: ginseng, cinnamon, cloves, currant, apricots, zucchini. We head home with brandywine, plums, glacier, stone. … Continue reading

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Refrigerator Door

.. Just red, cold crimson steel – the color of disappointment.     PS: ……We’re out …….of plums.       ..       (Read this.) A second tongue-in-cheek offering for dVerse. With gratitude to William Carlos Williams.    … Continue reading

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