Tag Archives: spring

she’s all uppity, in her bright april sky

spring’s got the bothers again,her bloom-ers all up in a tither, scattered hither-and-yon with yawn of breeze.  she’s got trees to woo,things to do, bees to boo into buzz.  sunshine’s waitingfor her to blushbudcry; hex and vex that startled stolen sky.  The Quadrille’s mine over at dVerse … Continue reading

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small blooms

thou answerest them only with spring – E.E. Cummings  .. too soon, these skies will make themselves known as pirate waters: tumultuous, stirred dark and deep. steeped in skeletal clouds and masthead thunder. we’ll wonder how we ever found the sun. … Continue reading

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the most wonderful thing

.. about springs: (as opposed to these quiet win -te(a)r chills,) is the way they b    o   u   n   c   e clouds off a stirred-up sky, the way they pry their wily, wiry petaled fingers into my funnybones, trounce … Continue reading

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Spring, (Foreword)

I. See, here’s the thing: winter’s got a way of freezing time. Sum   (12) II. –mer’s somethin’ else entire(less)ly. (4) III. Fall makes herself tumble-bumble known in leavings. Enter (8) IV. Spring. She’s got a thing for flowers, and … Continue reading

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Tied, Untried & True

… spring has sprung and she feels flung. no time to sing, laugh in flowers, raise face to sun. give her a warm-wandered shore, a place to store the sands of time. a sea. a song. spring her ……….(undone) from … Continue reading

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Girls in Green Dresses Under a Gargled Sky

… They dance in significant circle-sway, lull the moon to come out to play, blow hope bubbles and grin. They begin the melting of winter, the shimmer of spring, summer served with a twist and a hop-skip, too. They green … Continue reading

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{Sevenling: Spring}

.. Spring flings herself forward in falling blossoms, sacred sun, singing trees. We daisychain hands, loop strains of song. Plant poems. Sometimes, the robin hums along.   .. Prompted by Prompt Nights with Sanaa over at A Dash of Sunny. … Continue reading

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to the poet who urged me travel,gladly be{yond}

excerpt from somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond E.E. Cummings: (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the … Continue reading

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