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Tag Archives: sky poems
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.
“I am a feather for each wind that blows.” William Shakespeare :: Look up, the sky’s a fluffered songof promise. A float of hope. Let’s make ourselves a small and quiet place to gather these loose quills caught. **Cue the lightning.** On second thought, let’s not. … Continue reading
A maelstrom stirs in her chest,poorly born concave shell. Damn, but this land’s a swung (sprung) place to watch lightning fingers jigsaw the sky. ::Quickly, day 25.
‘ku (dos) for the sky in praise of stars sharp shards of sea glass in a broken open sky,scattered deep as sighs :: palming psalms O, the awe of trees waving limbs to sacred blue aching to know the sun’s fire ::Quickly day 8.
when the tree falls (in the forest) for the sky do you and i hear it, across all these miles? i know notof timbre falling ,but the stars are full of static electricity and the moon is all crescent cling and zing. ::I’ve been gleefully out of … Continue reading
:: Evening the score the playing field our un-fisted, twisted hands, we stand in awe of sky of star-sparked why of poker-faced moon. In the end, odds are, we’re even. ::
The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids’ flutter which says we are for each other – E.E. Cummings The earth laughs in flowers. – Ralph Waldo Emerson Philosophy is the talk on a cereal box…Edie Brickell :: dandelion fluff … Continue reading
bic, some rhythm’d pen -sive soul etching cloudwords to ivory sky. landlocked mermaid, dry scales thirsting for ocean, ink. thinking; thanking. drinking in the rum-bled scribbled scrambled song of some language i no longer speak. i am tossing letters (spaces) to the breeze and hoping some bright bird catches them … Continue reading
if you bend low, i can stand on your should-ers and stretch up up up on my tiptoes to reach Orion’s belt and fly. ::written for poetic asides November chapbook challenge.
, ‘it’s the color of my wedding dress!’ she saysand he always fires back ‘periwinkle?’ and there’s a wink built right in and then she says ‘cornflower blue.’ and after 22 years it’s something that never gets old, always new, this laughter borrowed over blue. :: written for poetic asides November … Continue reading