- Sitting in a heap of not knowing a thing
- learning to make art easy – even nothing can be something
- 30/30 catchup in Haiku
- 8/30 from the litnivorous prompt – love luck & the girl with the scissors
- 9/30 – a poem about last nights dream. ps, I am actually only one day behind, I’ll post those back poems tomorrow.
Category Archives: NaPoWriMo
One: Being grumpy I swallow the world In one gulp Two: Loneliness is my widest river I’ve no paddle to cross it Sunset in an old boat Three: Two bedrooms, three people Dirty hands on my aunt’s embroidery I’m not … Continue reading
I often wonder if it was more than luck. Perhaps a girl with scissors was jealous; so many long lengths pirouetting, their timeless pattern exquisitely timed, and she with the key to time’s endings. Maybe she was just a bubble-popping bimbo … Continue reading
9/30 – a poem about last nights dream. ps, I am actually only one day behind, I’ll post those back poems tomorrow.
To a flying beauty in taffeta and silk the house whispers, its mind driven to the brink… Sanity straddling Death’s chasm. Hide and seek is not a game when stakes are this high. … Life dangling and twisting, toe dipped … Continue reading
You call me the Mistress of Evil, Maleficant. As if I held only malice in my heart! Carabosse or Odelia, I am no wicked godmother. I am neither 8th nor 13th, I simply am. In many ways I am nameless. … Continue reading
There is an echo, inside some cavernous landscaped sprawl. She lies extended, lolls and stretches in open pockets, yet finds no ease in sound’s reverberation. She is a thundering crack, crackling ripples, rippling an abundance of caverns. And this loneliness … Continue reading
Attempted Self-Portrait The Mirror at our house was so clean. In it’s pooling I could see all my depths, in it’s pooling I could even see the future…miles of it. But it shattered in the move. I’d packed it too … Continue reading
“poetry is a species of thought” – Howard Nemerov. It is a scratching sound, like long nails scrabbling across the linoleum at midnight. I wake up thirsty after holding it all night. Neither Man nor Animal, its furr recedes only … Continue reading
Flamenco I see, I see, I see her .. Turn away. I see, I see, I see her .. Hidden in her red dress, she turns away. I see feet welded to the earth, welded & removed & welded her … Continue reading
No soaring, or sounds as the suns rise. No sillouettes to remind us what came before the crash. Everything in this new world so familiar; Air & water just the same, animals & earth so similar day & night but … Continue reading