Tag Archives: Poe

PoeTree 

Posted on November 26, 2022 by whimsygizmo

Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.– Edgar Allan Poe  :: We’ve got this hunger, see? These walls around our chambered souls, these syllables overflowing.  Our veins are … Continue reading →

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Closing Time

Posted on April 30, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. So a strophe and a spondee walk into a bar, and order a round (-elay).Bartender deals them up a couple of rum -bled phrases, heads to the back to crack open another case of beer and a jar of … Continue reading →

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I’ve Got a Poe(Um, in My Pocket)

Posted on April 26, 2018 by whimsygizmo

(It’s complicated.) .. In case you’ve missed it, we’re together now, me and Ed -gar. He knows a thing or two about ravens, murder, and the lamenting beat of a tell-tale heart. It stops, it starts, it spills its secrets … Continue reading →

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Thrum

Posted on February 6, 2018 by whimsygizmo

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am. – Sylvia Plath .. I am a flicker of phrase in a curious jar. Firefly waiting. I am quiet lightning, … Continue reading →

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Pen(dulum)-ing (more Poe,ums)

Posted on December 12, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. poeming can be the pits unless you sits and pens a quick one. We are masqued and tasked only to de ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,-light.   ..

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penning tiny Poe (um)

Posted on December 12, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… when we have had enough of (n)ever -more, we shall free our world-walled heart {its stops, its starts} and just watch that black bird fly.   ..

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what if this

Posted on November 9, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… poe umm is a tell-tale heart, an unquiet start -led by nothing more than the ghost of something less? what if she’s tested the waters and found them too salty, faulty in all their storms? what if this is … Continue reading →

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HeArt Confession

Posted on September 26, 2016 by whimsygizmo

  I am afraid of my own dark shadow heart. Afraid of the ways it stops and starts and stutters and strains to hear. Tired. Of its tirades and tears. Mired in the muck of its un -stuck rusted out … Continue reading →

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Kenning Me Softly

Posted on April 24, 2016 by whimsygizmo

.. Have you met her? She’s a mess -age of murmurmoan, an ink(trovert) blot caught on a cure-ious spinstring, a gypsygonegirl (nevermore) moon(mer)maid of de -versity. She’s paid only in breeze-sigh whisperwhy and skysong spare change. But give her a … Continue reading →

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Put this Poem on a Pedestal

Posted on February 19, 2016 by whimsygizmo

.. This poem is Poe -seidon, all salt, and quake. For Thor’s sake, give it a hammer, a helmet, an underworld, a mountain. A fountain of youth. The truth, in the shape of something golden, or great. But hurry. This … Continue reading →

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