A place to gather words before they get lost.
Quiet, like rice in a jar, a wisp of the Nine, the tail dust of a tumbling star, the soft whisper of a cloud, cosmic particles ordered, afar - we arrive with closed eyes, never knowing where we are
inspired by a Wisp Of Cloud Nine https://www.theoppositeshop.com/product/wisp-of-cloud-nine/12?si=true
for #VerseLove
Opening the screen to read the prompt: A Nonet? Heh! Counting fingers so I don't forget to write within the poem's limits - but I'm wandering within the lines of this poem that now ends
for DS106 Daily Create
In a week, my empty suitcase and I returned.
from 'My Life Was The Size Of My Life' by Jane Hirshfield https://poets.org/poem/my-life-was-size-my-life
Lost, I thought, lost in thought, I thought I lost it all but no, I hadn't - my odds and ends of a life had only been misplaced, maybe borrowed; something to blame for something I couldn't name – not stuff merely stolen, only, I thought: lost, and later, found, but at what cost?
Audio: https://sodaphonic.com/audio/9NVpaURhezj8LNJvWmF6
for #VerseLove
If the rest of what you read from this point on, is true, then this is probably false:
Poetry might yet save the world Poetry might save the reader Poetry might save the writer Poetry might yet save ourselves Poetry might just be scattered words, snippets heard
Notice the hedging - it's the ink-line of poets threading the line, damn near every single time
for #verselove
Edged out in eraser marks, these faint lines of something once written, now gone,
I lean my pencil against the line, and dream
Movement arrives slowly -
I'm all mosey with not nearly enough engine
Word tinkerer wrangling an idea into text — the next thing you know, it's a mess
So tender is the writer with words tucked inside a pocket, fearful of how fraught the eyes of attention can be
Phase phrasing: a gentle dimming of meaning where words in your head don't mean the same on the page — for the heart, intervenes
Our tired eyes telling lies for what we see is not what we saw
(poems written in Terry's blog post margins: https://impedagogy.com/wp/blog/2024/04/07/10325/)
A watercolor landscape in the dreamer's mind; what Spring thoughts might find
for Algot
Balanced at the top of the mountain, looking down in silence, no words filled the gap, no words needed, as we drank in the valley
a Tanka of a moment for #verselove
Louis Prima – he ain't gonna whisper, nope, Louis' gonna shout - gonna shout my ear out but I'm all game to leaning in, imagine him sing, to let him bring the biggest noise in the biggest voice anyone's ever called, the musical siren of New Orleans, jumping – jiving – wailing off the wall
from the image: https://flic.kr/p/2oj1mGT
We settle into our seats as the orchestra of quiet begins
to play inside the living room - a mix of Cage and Copeland -
our fingers tapping in time together, light drum skins, we begin a rhythm
for #verselove