Eyeing the distance
in breath-held levity
taut expectation
of vigorous gravity.
Monthly Archives: April 2016
Connections: April 29
LAMENT
My words
machined
are
cold
and plain
none unique
but
allthesame
monotonous
flat
cliche’d
refrain
across my
arid
writer’s brain.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: April 28
Yellow-green cataracts
stopped mid-spill
poised
in sun-glint
until
air-splashing
they reel away
in lime-hued
tumbling
rill.
Connections: April 26
My neighbors’ yards bejewelled
by April cloisonne
— tulips’ dazzling hues
bowing in the May —
shine more brightly
than does mine
with shyly clever
columbine.
In canny metamorphosis
it changes jester hat
for coronet of wings —
a tulip can’t do that!
As spring gives way to summer
and tulips sag to brown
my columbine laughs last
in green and ruffly mound.
Connections: April 25
Once upon a time
before my grandmahood
I’d only see a mess
where something else had stood.
Now I have been blighted
my perception gone agley
it isn’t bricks and gravel
it’s Minecraft that I see!
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: April 24
Can you see him?
little sneak
photo-bomber
how rude! what cheek!
Down in lower
right-hand corner
he is poised
all aloner
spindly-legged
silhouette
impertinent
rapscallion bete
minding not
his savoir-faire
while taking in
the rosy air.
Connections: April 21
Tuck this in your docket
a poem for your pocket
a sonnet for your vest
or line of anapest
today in bits of paper
in literary caper
we raise a silent cry
against the plain and dry
and summon muses hence
with their accoutrements
metaphor and simile
rhythm light and nimble-y
poetry’s declaration
of determined preservation.
Happy Poem-In-Your-Pocket Day, dear reader!
Connections: April 20
Do you ever feel
some weightless weight
darkly mottled
inbred
innate
mimicked by wind
lightning and flood
but roiled first
within our blood?
Thanks more to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: April 19
Apres la neige
part amethyst
part Dubble-Bubble
my crabapple blooms
no
explodes
into airy pouffy
Rorschach
mocking
my impatience.
Connections: April 18
The Writers Center hereabouts
refuge for the worded
bowered haven
bedlam-tinged
wisteria occluded.
Do we bless or curse those who stir the writer within us?
Yes.
