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Ripples
A single drop in the still pool. It’s been written about before… The mirror muddied, leaving broken images and light. Ripples bringing peace. What if the single drop was love? Love has certainly been...
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Heart Nebula poems, sad and happy
diffuse heart, tenuous - filaments of loss, reaching - barely cohesive, holding empty worlds The Big Bang of Love - springing the universe forth in love’s image, expanding for billions of years. ~~...
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Writing confidence lost and found: a poem called Faith
I fell into a slump. I guess it started when I gave Orchid a poem to read, and he said he didn’t understand it. It was good he told me. At first, I rationalized that he doesn’t read poetry, but soon...
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Tree offerings
One of my favorite springtime occurrences is the awakening of trees from their deep slumber. The below are from my twitter timeline. Notice a common theme? The trees breathe deeply like inverted lungs...
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Bedtime Routine (Sijo poetry)
Bedtime routine She becomes talkative, resisting sleep with lullabies With a twitch, her breath deepens, undulating like a rolling sea I tip-toe out the door, she awakens with a cat’s meow (I’m unsure...
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From Doing to Being
He said we are human beings not human doings - but there’s so many doings these days a treadmill without end circling the moon in its waves saving myself again and again When the tides pull back I can...
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Melting spring song
Snowflakes drag sound out of the air as they fall leaving a world of quiet. Sound freezes into snow drifts as color coalesces to white like a reverse prism. (light and sound return to the origin of...
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Bleeding heart
Dear Bleeding Heart overflowing with sadness - set your despair out to dry in the sunshine. Make your sadness malleable like clay. Make it a necessary sadness that builds a new place formed in the...
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A dream outside the box
I compiled the negativity placed it in a box taped the top securely and then stored it all away I wrote on the box “to be burned someday” and I will Then I dreamed a sweet dream so deep a dream that I...
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Lawn diversity
I think I missed the cultural desire for lawn homogeneity. These chemical-treated lawns, so green, so unnatural, so wanting. Give me dandelions and clover, moss and the unnamed green things that draw...
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Toddlers instead
Instead of castle-storming maybe we can mobilize toddlers so precious and magical and all the land would helplessly adore the little smiles that make the world and care for them faithfully until...
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Wake me slowly
Wake me with morningsongs scents from the kitchen the laughter of children hugs so deep they stay with me Ease me into my day with a gentle light so lush Hold me close and steady then lightly release...
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Beauty is quiet
Beauty does not try to compete with the swirling mind but quietly slips into shadows like the shadows the Moon quietly casts behind my house whether or not I notice them happy anniversary to dverse...
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epitaph for a oak tree
The waxing half-moon played in the branches of her oak tree one last time. By the time the Moon is full, the tree will be gone. We don’t know why you said goodbye, you left a larger field of sky. They...
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Picasso and Poetry
Pablo Picasso: Seated Bather, 1930, MOMA Recently, we visited the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. We climbed directly to the paintings and sculpture on the fourth and fifth floors, and then...
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Observations come…
…in layers – the unraveling of a river, I pick at a thread it releases when it’s ready like a tangled string for the careful embroidery of thoughts while words arrive with the frolic of a...
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A passing thought
For trees, there isn’t a set number of leaves. Hills can be short or quite tall. Lakes can hold any number of fish. So maybe I’m okay, after all. Filed under: art, becoming, Emotions, happiness,...
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Fireworks
Lighted jellyfish tendrils dangling I swim the dark seas *** dragon fire the thing you said forests burning *** dandelion makes its wish flower for a day *** visit dverse open link night Filed under:...
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Change of season
Painted leaves fall, an autumn palette dabbled over summer reflection. Nature turns the page. Filed under: 140, nature, photography, poetry, prose poetry, Random Act of Art
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In remembrance of Morpheus Proudfoot
I sit to write about you, cat, in bed, but you won’t come… a soft arc from the floor below lands next to me, my head - a pause, the paws, to find a spot then flop beside, and warm, a willful purring...
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