Category: Poetic Bloomings
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A Wander
A Wander The idea that I might wander lonely, be seduced by a ramble, not in a breathless city, but to traverse the nature of poetry. To forget that I am. That I am. for Poetic Bloomings “Forget”
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Where Do I Find…
Where Do I Find Inspiration … in the fragile and frayed, in the light and cool, in the whirl and gleaming infinities of you. In forest pines and rain fresh as a child’s eyes, in the tooth and the bone of a North Sea breeze. In young oak tree leaves, in a summer sunset, in…
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de-Grammer for dVerse
Another Cloud I knew a girl, she grew she grew, a hued music lived inside her, finger-dancing across her knees. Another day, acid-etched, another soft-edge cloud spilled, another bird’s scribbling word. And her cat’s the colour of sunset. It keeps itself just beyond her dancing-fingers reach. for dVerse and Gnomes
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A Draft for Gnomes Project #1.1
Lines in italics are from “On the Beach” by Neil Young, album On The Beach, 1974. For “Gnomes Poems” Project
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PB’s Changes
And Here Comes the Noise Merry and merry, and jingling jolly, and twinkling lights stuck on plastic holly, and I’m drawn by air shimmering from heat, there where I stand in my kitchen, foraging for silence and peace. Poetic Bloomings: “Changes”
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Poetic Blooming Does Spooky
The Piano Man His fingers hammered those keys. It was a noise like thin bones rattling, that sound of ivory tunes. It’s how bitter sorrow might sound, and his flour-white skin stretched drum-tight on his hand, a doff and coughing rhythm as his fingers tapped his signature songs. He died in a dance-hall, had a…
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Poetic Bloomings Goes All Stormy
That Gored Sky where was the face of heaven when that wind stormed and stumbled about – a wounded bull that gored the sky. where was the face of heaven when music’s wind was a fierce horn, when it reared up in rage and proclaimed itself reborn while the masses threw down hope. there, where…
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Time of Poetic Bloomings
A Scrap of Time I am surrounded by clocks day and night. This strange state that I’m in. This time. Every scrap of it is stone blind and dumb. Its hustle. Its bustle. A shuffle moving on. I once had an abundance of it. Now it’s just scraps. written for Poetic Bloomings
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Poetic Bloomings Does Goodbyes
Goodbye to Summer I’m reading this past summer backwards. Like a book. From a distance. And I’m uncertain why I hold this season in such high regard because for most of it – I was flushed hot, barely able to breathe in dripping humidity and swarthy air, and then came those dry sheets of wind…
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Poetic Bloomings In-Form: Naani
I’m content to cook, to fill platters and gather up friends and family — time is lost on us. written for Poetic Bloomings In-Form: Naani The NAANI is one of India’s most popular Telugu forms introduced by poet Dr. N. Gopi. It consists of 4 lines, totalling 20 to 25 syllables. It…
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