A place to gather words before they get lost.
The sky cracks open, a doorway splitting the day on soft beams of light
for Algot
Memory crackles, like a car radio stuck on AM
The Fifth Dimension singing about the sky, and all I see is dancing
for #mastoprompt
A cliffhanger, on the outer edge of the chapter, later,
dangling on the precipice, with fingertips touching tips of paper;
The plot thickens, stops, then starts back up again with barely a sound,
as the reader, bathed in silence, deep inside story, barely looks around
for #mastoprompt
I'm bending my words here on the page, turning meaning by twisting rhymes, and for result's sake, I'll grant the poem some time, a little space, and myself, some room in which to breathe, with grace
for #mastoprompt
Sit, then, for a spell - this portrait of canvas and ink takes time, but your thoughts are your own stories to tell
for #mastoprompt
Help them move past the mirk and mire ...
— Willeena Booker https://twitter.com/WilleenaB/status/1693989524442055138
Summer rains stretch fingers into the bottoms of the riverbed,
a weathered troublemaker stirring up what's long been settled in
With eyes closed, then, we slumber along through cloudy waters, dreaming of currents and clarity
Then stuck feet find a footing, and a hand reaches from the shore -
Once more, your presence provides ballast in an otherwise unbalanced world
The wind, fluttered; the words, bold as if etched in gold, flew like a banner rather than flag, and you were the one to finally ask, as we walked by, what the colors meant, and why
for #mastoprompt
scrambled tandem word poems becoming something random