I'm often wandering through the words of poets, sneaking small pockets of ideas, stealing seeds for sprouts, holding out hope on how poems emerge from dirt tilled by others; take a breath, blow, and let dandelions flow

for #OpenWrite

Suddenly In Bloom

You merely blinked and then it was as if the switch, flicked; the flowers bloomed

for #OpenWrite

This becomes that and that becomes this, but which is the what and what is the which, and where is the when, for when a look becomes that, and that becomes this – is it then that this glance becomes kiss?

for #OpenWrite

Ode To A River Current

Knitted along the edge where running water caresses sand, we stand here, quiet, listening, imagining ways in which days fold in, forever looping, linking, patterned inside the sounds of a fixed flow, never broken but for brief moments of falling

for #OpenWrite

Every sort of idea ignites the page,

astonishes the writer , as much as reader;

A poet is compelled to uncover a poem

framed as something new, something true,

But while we crave original, we listen for the echoes

for #OpenWrite with this random word list: ignite astonish compel frame crave

Start with a greeting - more formal than friendly – and then a few notes to hum alongside with (maybe be in a minor key) – but the start of something longer belongs better in a letter, not converted into music manuscript, or else you'll be resigned to never being finished, for words elude you: this cover letter languishes

for #OpenWrite

Sound, of you becomes me, a symphony in a major key, a string of sixteenth notes strung together, harmony and melody merge together so that one voice is two, me plus you, resting beneath the sign of Fermata

An etheree poem for #OpenWrite https://www.ethicalela.com/etheree-revisited/

Where not so long ago there was nothing but winter, now there is color – forgotten bulbs blossoming into view, in brilliant yellow, purple and orange, a menagerie occupying a sunny corner of the yard

for #OpenWrite https://www.ethicalela.com/color-in-nature/

There is a nook inside a room inside a house - a small corner of mess and light with a guitar on a stand and pens and paper at hand, and the possibility of songs of love and fight – a retreat in the maelstrom of a mixed-up world calling out to me

for #OpenWrite https://www.ethicalela.com/finding-a-safe-harbor/

Some things stay whole; others, break apart; the heart, like paper, folded into intricate pieces, as worded creases displace the center, faded lines, forever: this is how we remember

for #OpenWrite

Zeytun Gospels

https://www.ethicalela.com/witness-celebration-poetry-for-armenian-genocide-remembrance/