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Day18
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 25-31 iBook version). He was waiting. Like God. A tall tempest on tiptoes. I blinked, and we said not. We birds, perched on a clothesline. Nothing felt good in his eyes – you can’t love a cold chill, but the uneasy faces…
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Day 17
Home is my rock. My spine. A return into arms. Home is the heaviest suitcase. Found Poetry Source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews, pg 43-47
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Day 16
There was hell to pay for the kindness of sleep. That broken night. Saying good-bye to tangled light. It was a dark ride, where trees are ghosts, or parading sentinels. Found Poetry Source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews, pg 43-45
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Day 14
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 36-37 iBook version). The bitter irony of it. Like a fake parrot that thinks it something else. Something long and difficult to spell. I am disinherited. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 14 “A state or county” To follow later. Or possibly…
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Day 13
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 33 iBook version). Not. Not to drown in a fluttering smile … in filthy peppermint breath. So, I squeezed into a windowpane. So easy. It was. I was a straw of cheer in a shadowbox. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD,…
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Day 12
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 24-26 iBook version). There’s a milestone, pale and shallow, stars and breezes stretch to an end, and that’s what dead feels like. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 12 “The Art of” The Art of Time Wasting Time slipped off…
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Day 11
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 32 iBook version). I. And finally into that ripe old age, we squeezed into poverty. We’re left alone, repossessed, none of this is ours. Life is a strange voice. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 11 “Dedication” II. The Colour…
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Day 10
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 25-31 iBook version). I. Time came and went. Grief paused every so often, and then threw itself around like an old tight voice. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 10 “Lone” Rewritten from previous “Found” piece. II. Some days are…
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Quadrille #77
A Gril Named Emma I love her chatter, how she smells like pure white soap. Love the way her shiny bracelets chime like bells, and how she sweeps the room with her smile. We’re on the porch, playing Go Fish. She always has an ace up her sleeve. for Quadrille #77 including the…
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Day 9
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 27 iBook version). A shadow rolled in as spring passed. Stretching thin and flat as hair. Days are fading away. Forgotten kisses still alive at the door. We pretended to find solace in a knothole. for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD,…
It's Still Life 