A place to gather words before they get lost.
Recalling sound from yesterday's walk in the woods:
the rush of the river, at capacity from the rains, and that one bank where it sounded like rapids
the rustle of leaves, a flutter in the wind, each one spinning, together with many, before hitting the ground
the chatter of chipmunks, our dog listening, leaping, running but never fast enough to pounce
a whistle in the distance, someone else beyond sight calling, signalling, sending sound
for writeout
WMWP – Springfield Armory Writing Marathon
One (Found Poem) Source: Curators Notes for Photography Exhibit
Art In Everyday Perspective:
An experiment – a chance moment simply demonstrates a century — the daily life of snapshots
Cameras – creativity – compose towards the artistic
Focus on the life of portraits adjusting slight imperfections through a window of time; a precise moment
Images speak Can you hear?
Immerse yourself in art
Two: (Freestyle) Source: The Arsenal At Springfield Armory by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Before Being Boxed
Each story's sung to the steady hum of the organ pipes -
this reader's not ready for war -
But still the drums beat to the rhythms of the world, the thrum of uncertainty
And what may yet come, undone, once more -
this reader's not ready for war
Three: (Diamante) Source: Armory Machine Shop Photos
Gears rattling, resonant turning, creaking, spinning pulleys, wheels, pipes, ropes spinning, creaking, turning efficient, autonomous machine
for Write Out Poetry In The Park event at Springfield Armory Oct. 2023
As wind's whispers sings its song, softly, I tilt my head, slowly, catching white noise melody in the angle of ear, a melodic constant of sound and distance the world's inviting me to hear
for WriteOut
I write poetry ....
to explore the spaces between the words where gaps breathe into space, where pen and paper allow us to pause in the act of thinking
for National Day on Writing 2023
A view of the world begins from above, scanning eyes search signs for fish
for #writeout
Only the roots of the ghost tree remain -
soft echoes remembering its spindly arms reaching out
for every one of us, though we always steered clear
for fear that it might awaken to envelop us,
taking us, shaking us, making us disappear
for #WriteOut
An out-of-the-way place, a sacred space for contemplative quiet, a poet's grace imbues this alcove with verse not yet written, the wonder of the imagined art scattered like confetti on a broken bench near Gooseberry bushes where robins chatter
for #writeout
Wanderers like you wonder what I'm thinking, as I rest my weary head here
I am silent, deep in thought, and you ought to join me, friend
Repose sends us into inner places, quiet spaces of song
for #writeout
Dance with us, Luna, in the pull of the tides but whose song will we hear, when you re-appear?
Luna, known as tungi, kuu, hli, cap, yoreh, maan, mwezi, bulan, marama, and ay -
We name you, silver one, to try to claim you as you slip our fingers and slide back into the folds of sky
for #writeout