Tag Archives: wings

for want of wings 

she whispers, sighs and sings, paints budding things on hungry skin.  she knows the woes of outstretched toes and fragile fingers, waiting.  ::In November, we poem.

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Preflight Check

And the earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. – Genesis 1:2  Talk to me, Goose. – Top Gun  :: I’ve got all these murmur-ations, see? Dark shadow swirlings of thought caught in curious clouds.  We … Continue reading

Posted in November Chapbook 2022 | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Waiting on Her Wings 

She can feel them back there, growing. An ache between her shoulder blades. The phantom flutter of feathers not yet known.  She’s flown before, she can feel it in her bones, the rush of breeze.A scrape of treetops across her thrilling skin. A whisper of … Continue reading

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we wee dragons 

we are the smallish ones, of tiny scales and silver tails sealedin scarlet slip of sky.  we drink from butter-cups and saucer moonto soothe our embered tongues. we sing in hum -mingbird thrum. we wee beasties swallow fallen stars to stoke our shine. and we find  … Continue reading

Posted in April PAD 2022, dragon poems | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

mercies new

we can rue this day all we want, rant its shortcomings and moan its faults,  but there’s always another one another run another sun  waiting in the wings.  :: In April, we poem.

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dragon dna

  .. they’re two parts moon, i think, a drink of shimmered scale and waxing fire. where do their wings come from? starling murmur? darling’d breeze? the breath of trees and song that comes ……………(what may) from long stray veins … Continue reading

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Befriending the Dragon

.. Nothing better than discovering her (s)word, her own strength and song. Realizing the fire was coming from her own center and just needed a spark to give it flight. Whispering her wings to life, her heart to breeze, her … Continue reading

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Icarus Ponders His Fall

Should have gotten myself a good horse and a plow, some tangible now to hold onto with both bold hands, instead of these waxen whims. You’ll find me flailing as you’re sailing along, perhaps a pirate song on your tongue, … Continue reading

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Cobbled in Ink and Indigo Sky

.. How many miles has she walked now (barefoot, backwards, both ways), how many days until the next rest -stop? These feet are fueled by quiet psalm and howling prayer, dared to keep going by a sinking sun. She’s shed … Continue reading

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