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Day 4
for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 4 Painter’s Name About Constable This man wrote letters to his wife, signed them with endless love. That same hand loaded brushes with darkest weather, and nature’s trouble, slashed canvas with angry wind and grey contempt. His heart was nature’s fabric. His hands bodiless as he folded pigment greens…
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Day 3
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 12-13 iBook version). The Facts Behind Icicles Momma was cut-velvet breathless, all diamond icicles — wouldn’t live two years. I know that now. It was early May, and she didn’t want whining, or crying. It would displace me. for PA’s…
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for Twiglet 120
There’s eternity in waves, as constant as a clock that never stops. A Ginsberg’s American Sentence for Twiglet #120
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Day 2
Found from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews, pg 12-13 iBooks version. Stiff Upper Lips and Other Naff Myths Momma was cut-velvet breathless, all diamond icicles — wouldn’t live two years. I know that now. It was early May, and she didn’t want whining, or crying. It would displace me. …
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Day 1
Found in Prologue: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews. Also available on Tumblr Hope is Yellow. Like flowers. Yellow as sour gall. I hope I can write, grind the knife. I hope. for Writers’ Digest PA AprPAD Day 1: “morning” That Last Dream Before Waking behind closed eyes daybreak dreams are rising.…
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Found Poetry Remix and AprPAD 2019
Today is Day 1 of National Poetry Month. Two poems a day is target. I am participating in my favourite form of poetry: Found Poetry. Specific form: unrestricted remix. The source material is from “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews. I am also dipping in and out of Writers’ Digest PA’s AprPAD. This is…
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For Poetic Blooming’s Adventure
IN SEARCH OF APRIL As the sun breaks the cloudy wattle it reveals the high pitched green of spring. Everywhere, its emboldened brush is gilding everything. I forgot the thunder in birdsong, like innumerable feet that trod the ground. My eyes, less than wise, to what stars write for me. written for…
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For Wednesday’s Muse
Japanese Poetry Forms for Wednesday’s Muse #1 she is the branch furthest away from me now. just an occasional reminder, like a wind-flicker or a scent or a fold she left behind just before the trees went bare. For Wednesday Muse #1 poem form: mono no aware (mo.no-ah.way.ray) 5 lines depicting sadness at the passing of…
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For Sunday Whirl #396
A Nightjar in the Hawthornes I’m caught in the pull of a black pepper night. In a streaked chill that stings the moon. A nightjar sings, its breast swells with a song. A remix of clouds with stars. Sing, sing me your alchemy, and then stir the night. Sing in the spirit of life. …
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19 March 2019
Memories of a Wheel of Wind She was like that. A wheel of wind. My mother possessed the kitchen when she made bread. I watched in wonder, her softness of motion as she stood in a white floury cloud. Stretching dough. She’d slap her hands on her apron, flour dust rising like scattered smoke. Everything…
It's Still Life 