Tag Archives: this poem poems

’Dis Obedient Poem

Posted on October 10, 2018 by

… ’Dis poem ain’t in line or just in time. She’s got one black eye and bruised feet and a pen -chant for running out in the street before she’s fully dressed. She don’t listen, or glisten, or wrap a … Continue reading →

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This is one for the loony bin.

Posted on September 25, 2018 by

Image from Wikipedia.    .. This poem is just one or two steps shy of everything I might want to be. I’ve added stars and salt and sea and sigh -lence and the violet violence of one last sunset. Yet, it … Continue reading →

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This Poem is a Kitchen Sink – Everything, and Nothing {in Between}

Posted on April 15, 2018 by

.. This poem is a well -kept secret, a forgotten song, a vanilla skeleton portrait left in one dark closet. This line is a semiformal suit -case …………….(black tie optional) party of the elite intelligencia comparing IQs and elbow lament … Continue reading →

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this poem is not a

Posted on January 29, 2018 by

.. lulled leapdance nor bubbled-balloon, springdrizzle-dawn, cloudspark spawn. it’s neither curli-cued, open-stormshadowed nor leaving the creakrockcrunch of shimmer-spill. still, we hope it pepper-rose-spices your free-bliss dreamsoul, twist-skips grinmeltshimmer bones. Echo-sounds the dawn’s bouncekick, leaves green-breezespill, roses. this poem’s a journey … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

The Old Gray Mare

Posted on November 30, 2017 by

.. This poem was a goddess once. A Godiva, even. Long hair, horse. Now she’s a little ………worse for wear. Stare at her long enough, you might see the re -semblance of her old song, the hum -ina humina humina … Continue reading →

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This Ain’t Love

Posted on November 28, 2017 by

.. This poem is a fickle mistress, a wandering soul. She might stay awhile, and smile. She might go home to the moon at any moment. She’ll leave a note, but only the most tre -bled clefs, no rest, no … Continue reading →

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North of This  

Posted on November 27, 2017 by

This poem has slid just a little too far south. She’s got a mouth on her, but not enough to say. Point her true ……………..{north} , and she’ll tell you a thing or two about the weight of water, the … Continue reading →

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