Category: Poetry
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Day 3: Poem-a-Day Challenge
A Crow with a Pocketful of Stanzas (a tricube diptych) I. The Arithmetic of Yellow Sun’s shorthand—Grandma’s cakeand bee’s sigh. Dandeliontime bombstick, bloom, flee. Door left ajar—light poolsin threes—free. II. Crow’s Afternoon Tea Black beaks dipin stanzas—sweet, sharp, thief. “Honey-dust?”No—sun’s rustand grief’s leaf. They caw, flee,wingtips smudgedwith your laugh. Here are the rules of tricubes:…
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Day 2: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Beyond All the Summers I’ve Seen It’s the start of the day,light in the thicket and the wood. There’s a mellow light, mellower than sunrise,somewhere yellower than daffodils,somewhere beyond all the summers I’ve seen. Yellow, like honey, yet somehow sweeter—sweeter than love letters yet to be sent.Where light writes the names of pardons on leaves.…
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Day 1: Poem-a-Day Challenge
The Flour and the Fleeing The clocks rang out a timeless chime,Its singing breath was summer’s rhyme It was the best of times—or so we swore,fingers licked, sticky frosted buns we stole.A hint of sugar clung to our clothes—our delicious mischief it was so. I saw it all: the flour and the fleeing.How light bends…
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01.04: The Old Woman Without a Cat
The Old Woman Without a Cat the old woman with no cat sitson the garden step in perfect past tense,next to daffodils that are going papery dry and swollen with seeds. she knows she should snap off theirlittle dead heads, leave them headless as if she were a protagonistin a nursery rhyme, but instead she…
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26.03: Let the Last Breath Linger
Prosery: Let the Last Breath Linger some memories, like thin bells,vanishing, a song faint and low. A summer of being. Thirteen. Surrendering my mornings to the public library—piles of books, biblichor, waiting quiet as secrets. Quiet as a librarian’s finger to her lips: shush. I devoured the Dewey Decimal System. It became a fiery furnace…
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Remake (revised)
I encourage anyone with an interest in music to move their little mouse to Breaking Boundaries, and ‘subscribe’ so you don’t miss any of the posts. This particular post features a brilliantly done ‘cover’. Go listen. In music Remake is an alternative version of a song by other than its original performer. Although most remakes…
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20.03 Spring’s Arabesque
I dreamt of spring—such a strange little telling; blind, blue-eyed flowers straight from the dark brows of doom into a gentle dance. A swaying arabesque—so soft were its April eyes upon the woodland, its shock of white from a blackthorn’s blossom. There’s always a romp, a bird’s pantomime between branch and bough—a secret song, like…
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18.03 Cadralor for the Oracle
A Cadralor for the Oracle I.There’s a crow on the roof ridge,struts across it as if it’s the world,bends its wings, scolds, clamours,swears an ocean of words from itsdark battalions of creamy clouds. II.Petulant weather. Raining as ifspitting upwards by the dead.Splashing against the window,a drummed blur of silver fingersthat change tunes in whispers. III.Listen—a…
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14.03 The Oracle’s Cadralor
The Oracle Shouts Spring I. Winter was a sharp howling war, Sunday’s spring was utter calm; a day of molten glory and sun, of nights crowding stars pressed troubled faces upon the sky. II.The sea roiled rough though wind laid calm; thick-flecked with light under the light of stars, a shuffle of sands in lapsing…
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From the Oracle in Hindsight
Her Shadow Work Her mother counts pennies,grapes in a bag,pages in a book. More is better—she heard that somewhere. Her father says double yolks are magic, “Eggs are quieter than hens,”and moonlight quiets a dreambecause it sweeps the stars. Words of war wrap the house, a bitter path,the cards are castand signs read. Desk, plough,…
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