Tag Archives: unprompted

The Wayward Princesses Aren’t Sure What to Do with Themselves Today

Posted on May 1, 2021 by whimsygizmo

Somebody said good -bye, and there will be no more poems.  But these sassy chicas have bared their feet and souls and are ready to throw a moon rave again.  Anybody got a magic                    (wand) pen?  ::May Day! May Day! No prompt. All play.

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dubious she

Posted on March 22, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. longs for sea; quills salty feathered songs in wee poem pockets.   ..  

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a.m.

Posted on March 22, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. birdcry; the warming of her skin by sunburst sky   ..

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including (s)laughter

Posted on March 21, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… the rhythm of her metered feet is off and she scoffs at rhyme but these words still want to bleed so she heeds their call, s p i l l s them (sm)all.   ..

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birdsong

Posted on March 21, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. long my waiting into morning hope, a hum of blossomed breeze   ..

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brewing words

Posted on May 18, 2015 by whimsygizmo

i drink too much coffee. see, when i reach the bottom of my cup i’m supposed to get up and do something be -sides play with all the fun words. and it’s over -cast today, so all i want to … Continue reading →

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Double Dippin’

Posted on May 3, 2015 by whimsygizmo

(for Frances)   .. My friend Frances works the door with a mega-watt smile. She’s got a hug that I adore, my friend Frances who works the door (and sometimes I come back for more.) Shining Jesus is her style, … Continue reading →

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The Intricate Impossibilities of Flight

Posted on March 11, 2015 by whimsygizmo

.. First, there’s gravity. The heavy heart, the sacred wanting. There are laws against such things, rules in place to prevent the illusion of wings. And yet we spread our plans, our lies. We flap and flail and fade into … Continue reading →

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The Symphony of the Squeaky Ball

Posted on February 8, 2015 by whimsygizmo

What if it was paradise, what if we were symphonies? – Rob Thomas, Lonely No More . We have this pup. Sixteen pounds of scrappy sass, trembled tumultuous tremors and holy        ……..(terror) terrier energy. Loves squeaky balls. More than life … Continue reading →

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Surrendering this Strand

Posted on September 4, 2014 by whimsygizmo

… There’s an infinite amount of space in the world, it seems, and yet none of it is mine for keeping. Limbs akimbo, I am too wide for my own ravaged sigh ….-lence. Curled fetal, I am apostrophe un -possessed. … Continue reading →

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