I am from whole notes,
a sound languishing
over time, melody
on the prowl for rhyme
I am from half-notes,
broken apart like seeds,
by a need to always
quicken the pace
I am from quarter notes,
articulation dots scratched
along the top, reminding me
to pause, breathe, stop
I am from eighth notes,
a hand over your shoulders,
a curved slur blurring us
together in a riff
I am from sixteenth notes,
in rapid succession; I disappear
into the air before you have
the chance to hear me
for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/where-im-from-again/
A hammer to
the head —
it's not what
you think —
but even so,
years after,
I thought
about it, often,
late at night,
remembering
the fall,
the cry,
the call,
as I lay awake
in bed
for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/scars/
On paper, at least,
a travel itinerary's
flawlessly built
on possibilities:
a leap in
imagination
of side alleyways,
riverside wanderings,
museum galleries,
shops and eateries,
and a language
to wrestle your tongue
into submission
for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/oh-the-places-youll-go/
Imagine a world of cloud
rolling above the hills,
alone, but beyond a crowd
of daytime daffodils,
with petals reaching towards trees,
both, swaying to the breeze
a “borrowed rhyme” poem for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/borrowed-rhymes/
words borrowed from I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud by William Wordsworth
https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/william-wordsworth/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud/
A moment
of breathing,
in the woods
Stop – note the
uncurling
green branch buds;
this small grove
of elm trees
awakens
for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/when-spring-speaks-in-tricubes/
I am wander
a page spelunker
wrapping fingers
around verse
immersed inside
some other
poet's writing
finding something
forgotten or missed
a glance a sound
a thought a kiss
for #OpenWrite
https://www.ethicalela.com/the-verse-collector/
Stoic and focused
on food at its feet, the stork
embodies patience
A voice in the din;
this is where we can begin
to hold back the tide
for Algot
As much as five miles -
a honeybee will forage
far from the home hive
Merely a sliver
of light against the night sky,
reflecting the Sun