interlacing threads
in the tissue of her time
she spent long intervals
on cross strokes
slanting down
and open form,
committing each letter
of woe
to a fabric-
bound to make something
beautiful.
interlacing threads
in the tissue of her time
she spent long intervals
on cross strokes
slanting down
and open form,
committing each letter
of woe
to a fabric-
bound to make something
beautiful.
it is not among
their repertoire – blithely sung lyrics
in their intercourse – yet undeniably
the intrusion of words
breaks a pliable barrier
that has become
contrapuntal – similar in a fashion
and built upon
the tacit crescendos.
********************************
I was thinking this morning about the power of the “unspoken”, which can be an essential part of communication between two people -as much as the words even – in some circumstances. There can be an energy to that seemingly empty space that is unrivaled. This poem seeks to describe that. Thanks for visiting.
the lamp shade
is colored with a depth
of incandescence,
the way a face
shows
a heart, flushed
and swelling
with crescendo –
a glimmering crest
crowning the moment.
************************
Some stream of consciousness writing this morning…I had nothing on my mind as I sat down to write. I looked up from the computer and saw the light 😉
Who doesn’t like it when something nice just appears out of nowhere?
My writing output has slowed of late, due to work, family obligations, and life in general. I always feel a little better when I can craft a thought, a vision, or a feeling in a poem. It is like my heart shakes off a bit of the coldness that can creep in. Saturdays are good mornings for that. I’m grateful. Thanks for visiting.
interior to the moment
where we mingled our words,
every other one articulated
disparate pretenses
though thought bound-
to increment and comply
with the next,
leading onward
in the clutches
and parlance of consummation
to a synchronous
indulgence.
*************************
I know the words here are a bit “overzealous,” though as I’ve mentioned before here…I like the sounds that words make. So indulge my vocabulary and just listen to the sounds. Thanks for visiting.
you give me so little to go on-
when I want a touch
of your soul
and only get a sound
how it can
soothe or incite
and just like that
the air splits with
a song
that is both
joyful and sad.
in the hollows
and meadows
you call me with the thrushing
of pine needles to inspire
to climb
and place my steps
on familiar ground
pulsating with desire.
bring me closer
to a shared ascent-
where your words, once nestled
in the horizon, peek out
among the clover and the briar.
and we hold each other in the glow
of sunset’s flushed attire.
calling amid the
intermittent drops
that fall and soak the ground
or
seeing entangled
clouds appear
with the morning light.
not
just as a backdrop
of weather,
but a welcoming
posture
I see coming
into view
awaiting entrance,
her subtle hand
on glass.
in a moment of thankfulness,
on the arcing turn
where it may be
unstable, and precarious to be
on such an edge-
one part cusp and adamant
yet agreeable
one part adrift, roaming
yet anchored
to each other-
in this moment of his gratitude
held while leaning
into her arching turn.
*********************
A sign I see every day driving to work that warns of the roadway perils became a poem.
I followed the sun
on my walk-about, stepping
into places it had washed over.
Reaching out, only to have it cascade
over my forearm
and cast shadows
on concrete
-firm footing and echos pairing.
A recurrent arrangement
coupling in a wake behind me.
I’ve noticed how
you reach for a speck
or a fleck of dust –
a strand of hair –
and remove it;
using your thumb and
middle finger to cinch
then pull away
the stray trinket.
And just as nimbly,
You eye
with a glance,
just on the chance
that some appraisal is not
justified.
Then release -aside-
the interloping bits
that cling-
These things.
********************
I like to observe how people interact – with others, with their surroundings. Sometimes you can infer things by observing behaviour. Sometimes not…
In all, a simple poem with some nice elements.