rattle and hum move and thrum to and fro squeal and go ringing bell signal well its coming and its going — Train – 12/14/09 – 12
Browsing: Free Verse
he played music on a street corner not yet full of the seasons bustle the rise and fall of mournful notes a landscape painted in Christmas hues his red stocking cap sat a jaunty angle while tendrils of wispy smoke drifted on the wind, and brass vibrations wafted down the city streets at mid day — Busker – 12/14/09 – 11
you were my rest and i ached to rest weary shoulders, and a deep deep breath. i’d think of you, and i’d see flowers, calico, and my fondest dreams. we were so close to perfect, but now you’re gone, and i find myself missing you — 12/13/09 – 10 #favorite
i am full of competing desires. hopes, dreams, and knowledge of past failures, they echo in the chambers of my mind ponderous, pondering, weighing, wondering. — 12/12/09 – 9
feel the aural shapes, soft and feathery light, sometimes sharp or hard like steel granite forms expressed on your tongue tasted like things grown from the earth. felt on your skin and in your spine, goosebumps and a flood of tears or a sudden intake of breath. — 12/11/09 – 8 #favorite
fatigue wraps itself around you like a thick blanket, heavy on your shoulders its muffled voice whispers sleep is your friend. — 12/10/09 – 7
blow wind, howl in the morning light race down and through and round the bare and broken city streets. cold and furious, frigid and wry, you wrap your fingers fast round staccato steps and quickened heartbeats — 12/9/09 – 6 #favorite
my son, my son i know the road you take the fragile path, the long sojourn the weary ache and pang of loneliness the despair you sometimes feel when you sink beneath waves of fear and emptiness my son, my son i know — 2/23/2012 — 190 taken loosely from Job 23:10
soft light at the start of day cold and gray, vapor strewn, it dawned timid and reluctant, falling light landing lightly on the variegated cityscape. — 12/7/09 – 5
i lost my footing back in april and found i was foundering adrift without a tether tied my soul no longer calm it was anguish at first to feel the pressing panic of my mind a palpable fear that i had lost solace in a constant will yet through the turbulence of my excited state of mind a living truth was working to stay a shaky confidence and though not all is settled and doubt yet delves beneath hope is not quite diminished nor truth so easily released — 12/6/09 – 4 the last two lines have always bothered me…
someone said the test of love is making hard decisions– choosing, for another’s sake, the necessary actions; taking the proper path though strewn with rocks, watered with tears, and fraught with pain. for love chooses what is best chooses what must be shouldered, borne, and done, in spite of what might be wanted, regardless of what had been hoped. from the poem Hard (i) by Joy Camburn in response to this post.
dissociative phrases slip in and out foggy dew, fog lifted, foghorn, leghorn. ;) creative buzz, cackling energy welling glad to be free. free of the fog. there it is again, chase the pent up rush. ideas in a fuss, hear the thrush! now focus. crisp. clear, feel the clarity, contrasty, images, razor sharp, like a knife. now soft, fluid like water. oh bother. chase the convolution harry it like a cat and his mouse or a bird and his prey wait. where was i again? — 12/3/09 – 1
a smile played on her faceaching, and lovelya dusky room and warmglowing red from tungstenmy desire is eager, cloying, lingeringand when i wake, it hurts
i felt the swift and sudden dropso eager, engaged, and desiringbut also the slow and sober thoughtthat she matters more to me than self-4/7/08
The scent of spring was on the air this morningBreathing deep a sigh after the rainWhite blossoms on the dogwood are breaking And the indigo tinge of magnolias Signal the last breath winter
you smile easilyso quick to be happyand the world gleamslike a marble in your eyes.
the rain fell softlywhile the choir sang of snowflakesand the mournful music washedover his lonely soul
my dreams linger lightly on the wispy wimpleof the silver softness of my pillowas i remember brightly the fine and fickleflurry of the early evening hoursi will greet the morning, and the blushing brightnessof the subtle sunlight as it creeps across the floorwhile i linger in the longing of the prior eveningthinking of the time i spent with her
She is a song.not the weaker,but more fragile,softer, sweetercounterpoint:to my melody
she was strongbrooking no obstacleas a woman and a daughtera sister, a wife, and a mothershe loved her familygiving without sparingwise, determined, deeply caringby breath and unshaking faithshe was my grandmotherloving and deeply proudleaving a legacy of gracehope born of faith and love