Each month, write a new collection.
THIS LIFEEverything this life and whydo children laugh at nothing?Everything this life and wheredo dreams go upon waking?Everything this life and nowyou ask me to live foreverEverything this moment and no time to surrender—sr
That's fantastic. I love what you did with the poetic device! 7 in the morning and you've already written a great poem!
no time to surrender is a great finish.
I like the rhythm of the repetition. Nice, succinct! Great ending.
We have purchased a water gun from amazon And my husband is on the look out for deer eatingOur landscaping — he runs out in his bare feet and spraysAt them. There is one deer there this morning — the othersHave gotten the memo and are off munching tulips at someoneElse’s place or gazing disdainfully at the lavender, which they Apparently despise. This deer faces off with my husband and hisAbsurd orange and green blaster. They stare at each other.A tiny bit of water startles the deer and she walks off a bitLike that guy did at the escalator in saks, when he tripped me And I called him on it, and he looked like he was going to hitMe but then thought better of it and threaten-walked awayMuttering. The deer does that kind of enraged saunter, munching on a leaf of somethingThat she managed to tear off before the water gunHit.
I can visualize Larry running out back, not quite dressed for outside, charging the deer with his "weapon". Great images Stephanie.
I love this Stephanie. It reminds me of Steve Kowit's great poem about his wife.
this momentbetween sleepand wakefulnessI lie stillwithin myimaginationenvelopedin the dreamnot ready yetto approachso calledreality
i like this one. "so called reality" -- yup.
for all the dreamers - right?
I was watering my bougainvillea bush the other morningand a hummingbird floated bywith a zig zag in its happy path floating beside my stream of water curving across as I held the streamwith my thumb held at the end of the hoseas still as I could stand, like a statueThe bird floated and hovered in the sprinkling of sprayI felt the moment put me closer to the natural worldand may not ever happen to me in the same way again just as the moment passes will be forever remembered in a time of mindfulness
Bougainvillea & hummingbirds, love them both. I love how you made it a unique moment in time, yet how it becomes permanently embedded in your memory.
Thank-you, I wish you had been there to see it, water bouncing off of its chest as it dashed in and out taking a quick shower
Your poems are tremendous Daryl. I really hope you join us for our readings!
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zig zag in it happy path! That's so hummingbird. Love it.
I Wanna Hit the SnoozeI can't remember what I was dreamingI never canoutside my dream, I can hear windI always canthe slow hum of the air conditioningit gets stuffyanother sound joins the chorusit always doesfaint at first, then growing with intensityit never failsa calm plucking of strings and flowing waterI startle easyI open my eyes and reach for the alarmI'm so groggyI stand up, stretch, crackle, and wake the dogshe's not impressedtogether we stumble to the back doorshe's gotta peeI stand there a moment, taking in the morning aironly a momentthen she jumps on the couch and I get dressedtime for workan hour later, I'm heading out the doorkeys in handthe comfort and security of my sleep long forgottenthe day begins
Beautifully done Molly. Great poem!
The distant drum of thunderreminds her of children now grown,who’d slither between sheets,(between them)lighting dark dawns with wide eyesand shrieks of terror and delight. Now the house is hushedlike birdsong on rainy mornings,and the bed is empty(except she is still there).--Lynne
Wow, that's a bittersweet and beautiful poem!
MilkweedHow will the monarchs find the milkweed newly planted in the garden? Golden nymphs have found it and wallow in its leaves until I wash them off with peppermint soap. When will the monarchs find it? They found my friends’ milkweed and busily laid their eggs; my friends did not even know, not until the eggs opened into larvae which then hid themselves in cocoons that hung from slender green leaves. I will stop watching them, let the aphids eat the leaves and hope that eggs will arrive and turn into larvae. It’s the cocoons I want to see. I want to imagine velvety black heads and legs, vermillion wings folded like fans, the sleeping souls of once-squirming larvae about to waken into beauty and rise into the air above the fragrant garden, bathing, and being, in wonder.tm