Prime Poems
Two:
the oddest of all
and the first in line;
the only one, even -
the breaker of
mathematical
patterns
Three:
the first of the odd,
three-edged, and angled;
and in nature, a three-fold
symmetry
Five:
a Fibonacci, like
fingers on the hand
or toes on the foot,
or the squishy reaching
out of the arms of the
starfish
Seven:
a lucky number,
the colors of the rainbow
or days of the week,
and removing one
gives up product of its
first two prime
cousins
Eleven:
numerical palindrome,
sitting just beyond ten,
and any single digit
multiplied by it becomes
a mirrored number
double
for #ds106
video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLcT_U5OJn8
Each morning, with coffee, I open the web
I avoid the news, and find the Create instead
I read it and ponder -
remix and yonder -
and spend the day with the art in my head
for #ds106
Even deep in night,
leaves lose touch with their branches,
tumbling in darkness
for #ds106 #DailyCreate
In the moment
of the Eye,
when the storm
catches its breath -
when the air becomes
as still and settled as death –
we wander remains
of tree limbs and
pine cones, the power
of the unknown
more present than not,
then head for shelter
as the wind kicks in
and tightens its knot
for #ds106 and #writeout
They Are From There
They are, to me,
indecipherable as language,
but beautiful, too, barely
legible in the pen swoops
capturing landscape and loss,
the ancient land beneath them
barely there, yet remembered
like breathing, like singing,
like writing poems by candlelight
for someone else to read later
for #ds106
with this poem by Mahmoud Darwish as inspiration
https://blogs.transparent.com/arabic/arabic-poem-%D8%A3%D9%8E%D9%86%D9%8E%D8%A7-%D9%85%D9%90%D9%86%D9%92-%D9%87%D9%8F%D9%86%D9%8E%D8%A7%D9%83%D9%8E-by-mahmoud-darwish/
My friend, Murph,
was a drummer,
extraordinaire -
his back-beat,
precise, like magic
in the air
Calligram for #ds106 Daily Create
https://flic.kr/p/2rxgbCZ
'tis the season
for neither rhyme
nor reason — no, wait —
I rhymed that line that time —
oh darn, and there I go again —
forgive me, my friend,
and allow me to make amends —
oops, well, I suppose
it's a songwriter's curse,
and what's worse is that
I actually tried —
no, wait, hold that:
I lied
for #ds106 Daily Create
It's hard to hold on
beneath the barrage of bad news;
but hope filters through
for #ds106
Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple- a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you. ― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Gap
there, beneath
where you once
removed the river rock,
and tossed it to the trees,
an outline remains,
a pocket for rains
smooth sands
by gravity's fingers;
and in your mind,
the rock's still there;
it's the gap that disappears
for #ds106