Left Hanging
So many questions
in the air.
Can't find the answers
anywhere.
Not in the sun or the stars
or the moon.
Not today or tomorrow or
anytime soon.
Links
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Happy Thanksgiving
Writing poetry and taking photographs has taught me to take the time to look around each day. I have seen many beautiful things that way, including some things in my own backyard.
Here's looking at you!
Links
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
The Feel of Paper
The Feel of Paper
I want the feel of
paper as I turn the page.
Lift the corner, slide
my fingers across the
words and flip to
the other side.
Crack the spine
of the new and
smell the ink.
Coddle those whose
binding life has broken
and bear witness to their stains.
There is enough
plastic in my day.
I want the feel of
paper as I turn the page.
Links
Thursday, November 17, 2016
We Never Know
We Never Know
The flower broke.
For days, it endured
the hot sun,
the whipping wind,
the beating rain.
Today, the flower broke.
The bloom bowed and
could no longer rise.
Who knows what made
the difference from
one day to the next?
We never know.
Links
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
The Force of the Wind
The Force of the Wind
The flag hangs
limply on the pole.
It gets a lift
from the light breeze
but quickly sags
back down.
The velocity is
not strong enough
to make the cloth
extend, flap and snap.
There have been
other times like this.
The flag has learned
to rise each day and
remain visible until
it catches the full
force of the wind
once again.
Links
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Crows
Crows
The crows are
noisy this morning.
Their caws carry
through the cool, crisp air.
All that hear the cries
gather to scavenge and
pick the bones clean.
Links
Monday, November 7, 2016
In This World
In this World
I am in residence
in this world
for an unknown time.
What will I make of it?
In this world,
I try to find my
way every day.
For an unknown time,
I have the opportunity
to carve out a life.
What will I make of it?
All that is certain is
that it will be mine.
The poetic form used for this poem is called a Trimeric.
Links
Thursday, November 3, 2016
Apples
Apples
An apple a day
may come in
different ways.
Whole, halved
or quartered.
Bright red, golden
or granny green.
Sliced in a pie
like Mom used
to make, topped
with ice cream
or cheddar cheese.
Turned into cider,
warmed and spiced
or cold and fermented.
The appeal is
in the variety.
Links
Tuesday, November 1, 2016
Fire in the Trees
Fire in the Trees
Fall sets the
trees on fire.
Sparks of red,
yellow and orange
spring up and spread
through the leaves
until the branches
are ablaze.
Time is the
extinguisher,
the signal to let go.
Links