Seeds, long since scattered, take root in the field's young grass - the start of harvest
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Seeds, long since scattered, take root in the field's young grass - the start of harvest
Some poems never find homes
they linger in imagination's ether
Neither forgotten nor written
only just remembered
for #VerseLove
Cardinal, you cruise on wings of speed and signs of Spring
And do you sing? Will your song bring a change in season
or do you even need a reason, Cardinal, to dance in flight?
for WriteOut
That river's first bend into the unknown, began a love of boating
for VerseLove
We're strumming on the subtle strings of inscape,
the small shared cathedral tree-space, where we partake
in an escape from the humming noise, leaving grace only for
the wonderment of another Sunday morning
I, too, gather twigs - these bones of a lost winter - building nests for fire
for Algot
A pencil-top eraser removes only the surface of scribble,
leaving little nibbles of where words were
a poem built upon a poem built upon a poem
of an idea, layered like tectonic plates, just before the shift
for VerseLove
Someday I just might take up her challenge response to my complaint
to systematically count every single potato chip in the bag
to calculate the ratio of empty air space to product
to plot out the reduction of weight to cost over time
She just laughs and tosses the bag into the carriage, as we head to the checkout line
for Verselove
Harsh colors in rooms of petals, sounds of metal noise blasting, in bloom
A poem is ink you sketch upon yourself
Not tattoo, but something gone deep
Odds and ends of the observable world
Chosen memories you yearn to keep
for VerseLove