-
Poetic Bloomings: 8 July
That Summer of Crows I was ten. I was smaller then. The world was smaller, and that made everything bigger. Made the sky bigger. Made the old oak bigger than sky, and when I stood under that tree, clouds disappeared into its leaves, into its shadows. It was wind- flicked and dry as old books.…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 7 July
June 1962: All That Noise and Bomb Drills Summer rain fell on our white winter arms, that much we both remembered. It was a chill that tightened the skin. Stiffened your bones. And we’d hang around like two stretched ropes, sitting on the front steps waiting for Dad to come home. Do you remember, she…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 6 July
Every End Becomes an Ache Summer has lost a friend, Slipped and tipped over like dominoes, The soft sorrow of roses, forfend, Summer has lost a friend, Lost its bird song and country lane’s end, Lost the sweetness of hedgerows, Summer has lost a friend, Slipped and tipped over like dominoes. To my forever-friend,…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 5 July
“Maybe all losses before this one are practice,” – from Our Lady of Perpetual Loss by Deborah Miranda It’s a New Beginning I heard a robin sing last night, to windswept leaves lost in dark, to the moon bright as skin, and ghostly clouds pressing light. There in new beginnings, where I left my…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 4 July
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” — John Steinbeck White Summers and Black Winters Age has taken the heat out of us. Petals detach, day on day. Aimless as steamboats. Once adrift, we were the sun, bright, a chase of white summer heat. Our…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 3 July
“The course of true love never did run smooth” ~ Lysander in Midsummer Night’s Dream I. To Melt There was a time I’d melt. An ice cube In a steam room. A puddle For his broom. For his smile. But I’ve also had lengthy Conversations with trees. II. The Cricket Daddy always said…
-
Poetic Bloomings: 2 July
Just a Bit I’d be standing at the kitchen sink. Maybe looking out the window at the blue pots at the rubied-red geraniums, and he’d come up behind me. Like a breeze. Surprise me like a gust of wind. And I’d smile. Just a bit. To myself. written for Poetic Bloomings July prompts
-
Poetic Bloomings: 1 July
A July Smile The curtains feel fine playing a tune. Days blowing through the screen, and across the floor. See July smile, a little light shines. Feel her arms, my summer breeze. written for Poetic Bloomings 1 July: Summer Breeze. The text of this poem is “found and remixed” from the song lyrics…
-
dVerse Quadrille #12
Just Roses I’m eyeing a hooded parking meter. Its flag is up. Expired. Like some Tranquil step toward death. Across the street is the barbershop. Then the bank. And that’s the whole block. Banks need space for all that money to grow. I just grow roses. written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #12 –…
-
Singing for Poetic Bloomings
Édith Piaf When she sang it was raindrops. Falling diamonds. A firestarter with those drizzling tones. Édith, my Édith, a beacon for angels, who made the saints weep. I know her every song — they were like medicine, cured my heart. Words to stop my furrowing rot. I’d become old — dry wood, but my…
It's Still Life 