A place to gather words before they get lost.
Imagine loneliness on wheels, teetering off balance, as if skating on ice formed after a storm, with its arm outstretched for support, wondering who will be the one to hold you forever?
Day 1 for #AdventPoems24 inspired by 'The Rider' by Naomi Shihab Nye https://poets.org/poem/rider
One single flower endures; sleepy survivor of a long winter
The taste of first snow lands on the tip of the tongue; a shout, like we're young
A wind storm drops limbs; light a fire in the hearth of lost memories
Pencils, made of pine and graphite, stretch the landscape to where poems exist
A slight brush of skin in passing; a tender touch in remembering
Sliced, diced and mashed up; sitting in a dish, alone, the turnip turns cold
A mouthpiece of sound contains a song, blown raspy; broken, withered reeds
A stew of letters, all jumbled up together – poetic weather
Four/Four
A set of drums Fast pedal clock click His hands hitting cymbals An intricate rhythm stick
In near perfect balance An intricate rhythm stick In four-four time The drummer never quits
Each note becomes another Drive it home, forward His hands hitting cymbals The beat of feet
The guitar is gone The bass drops out The singer now sits The drummer never quits
a variation on a 4x4 poem
Voices spill out beneath the door, sound as shafts of light — in escape, shadows wait for more,
for us to linger a little longer, our ears pressed against the wood — if only we could drop beneath the eaves,
maybe then we'd believe
Dry mouth soil savors these rains, nearly forgotten by brittle Earth —
we were warned, remember, about the flames, the first spark ignites the dark as the monsters came — subsumed by an act of madness, the kind only nature brings
Yet here we were, singing the praise songs again, the clouds dropping gifts up us
the rain the rain the rain