A view of the world begins from above, scanning eyes search signs for fish
for #writeout
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
Bring us the light, Sol, from your long distant gaze
your turbulent voice rides solar winds, like waves
We bask in forgiveness, close our eyes to the sky
And wait, impatient, at dawn, for each moment you arise
for #writeout
What she thought when she screamed was a cockroach was a stinkbug -
the scurrying species that periodically invades our classroom and elicits a shout;
I wrap the bug up in tissue, open the door, and toss it back out
for #writeout
Here, at dawn, before the day has begun, the house is far from silent;
a sump pump flows; a neighbor starts the car; the dog walks on wooden floor; the fridge whistles and hums;
fingers on the keys, the sound of me, alone, typing this poem
for #writeout
In the dusk of the wild red leaves ... – Carl Sandburg
The stealth boy with hair as crimson as the woods of a changing season, disappears, or maybe only imagines he does, hoping his mop top camouflage against a game of hide and seek in the woods where his sisters are looking but not nearly noticing how different the world seems now even as the days begin to fade
for #WriteOut