Thursday, September 20, 2018

The Rhythm of the Wings


The Rhythm of the Wings

The butterfly sits
but flaps its wings.
down, up, down, up
I focus on the rhythm.
open, close Open? No,
just a pump fake.
Open? Now! close, open
Are you dancing in place?
I don't know, but I
could watch you all day.

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I'll be at the Unplaza Art Fair this weekend, Sept. 22-23. If you stop by my booth, you might see a butterfly. Will its wings be open or closed?

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Thursday, September 6, 2018

The Game of Life


The Game of Life

We play with time
even though we
cannot see the clock.

Get up to watch the
sun rise or sleep
the morning away.

Work overtime
or come and go
on the dot.

Worry about everything
or enjoy
whatever we've got.

Fill each day
in our own way
until the clock runs out.

The prompt for this poem was game.

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Tuesday, September 4, 2018

The Bud


The Bud

The bud
waves in the wind
and says to onlookers,
"Wait until you see what I have
inside."

This poem is a cinquain, 22 syllables divided into five lines of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2. I really took to this form when I learned it in 8th grade so I decided to revisit it.


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