Streaming River is attractive
Identity of that river
Is cold..
Blooming flower is pleasant
Identity of that flower
Is fresh...
Rising moon is bewitching
Identity of that moon
Is...
1282
-
[image made with Bing AI generator]
*Shane*
I never knew his pedigree. Did he even have one, i know not.
I remember his colour though, white. It was i wh...
Seeing Red
-
source
Red is striking as a stripe through a rug,
woven or tufted tightly, thin or wide.
But not as blood seeping through a white shirt
or bandage he...
'entanglement of transition into transformation'
-
*When the Universe exhales, its destiny unveils, *
*the colors of the flower gently fade, trees are felled by*
*seemingly angry winds, the waves of th...
My Gibbet
-
My gibbet is a fine and private place
where a lady may tarry of a summer afternoon
elevated and untouchable--
an ideal love just out of reach
like fruit fo...
Writers Circle Prompt: Red
-
1. Red shoes
2. Red dress
3. redress
4. Red sky in the morning
5. Danger
6. Stop
7. Red roses
8. Love
9. Valentines
10. Red pe...
Spring's Quietness
-
[image: Free Lilies Of The Valley Spring Flowers photo and picture]
Courtesy of Pixabay
The sounds of spring are quiet
found in unexpected places
in the li...
The Land of Peacocks
-
I am on a pilrgrimage
to the land of peacocks,
charmingly (or not) barefoot
among the cattails.
(I never was one for spangles.)
They tell me a tabern...
No Time To Make Things Pretty
-
*source*
*No Time to Make Things Pretty*
This is no time to make things pretty.
Accept things just as they are.
Forgive yourself for the paper airplan...
Still Life
-
I remember walking barefoot
In the field in front of the tabernacle
The cattails shone like spangles
And the sun levitated in the aura of trees
I sang ...
The Sway
-
The Sway
*(A Love Poem} *
So many years I dripped
your jade-clear love, my absinthe on
a melting sugar dream.
I knew the greenest green
that...
this room is under study
-
the room is triptych
a distortion of the manifesto:
space, silos, substance
there is no roof
nor ceiling, only sky & clouds
are our constants
whate...
Day And Night
-
yellow afternoon
whiteness of the walls whiter
windows bare curtains drawn
floral prints falling in drapes
two pigeons on the sill
heads tucked
...dozing....
This Poem is Clouds, Bloom, and Sparkle
-
This poem is an April day without sun.
This poem is two hummingbirds huddled in a rose.
This poem is rain turning grass into emerald sparkles.
This poem ...
The History of One Life
-
Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List -- The Prodigy
*Come join us!*
*Through many windows life looks out... Through windows rosy with young...
Inspiration
-
Inspiration
Upon a chin of gold
you sit,
not man,
but madonna
of twinkling sky,
birthplace
of dogmas
and devotion,
of blue-lit nights
and silver stars
s...
About the Poet
-
Collected Works 2009 - 2024 About the Poet
Kerry O’Connor has been writing poetry since 2009. Her themes are
existential and she draws inspiration fro...
Hopefulness
-
Cynicism
is the most unforgiving
proof of gravity.
I arrive at
the pinnacle
of the Hill of Hope,
and I stayed up there
for a minute,
catching my...
The Barefoot Peace of Ash Wednesday
-
peace, barefoot
walking slowly toward me
floating grey and silver
the Holy flashing through
peace, a gathering of flickering angels
he then she then...
-
A Stimulated Mind
by
Belva Staples
*Making things entirely from scratch, *
*Brings a certain sense of satisfaction, *
*Because the uniqueness of a cr...
Time For Testing Testing
-
I think it has been a while since the cat posted something here. Who knows
though as time is different for a rhyming rear. What? That doesn't count
one b...
-
When I started this blog in 2012, I had no long-term expectations for it. I
simply wanted to provide prompts as a small service to other poets. Over ...
Early morning light
-
The sun's early morning light breaks through the bedroom window
And brightens the dim room where I wake from my sleep
Her own pictures on the walls no...
A Note from the Poet
-
Excuse me while I kiss the sky....
*Jimi Hendrix*
Dear friends and fellow poets
Thank you for visiting my Skywriting Blog, which has been my creative spa...
I BELIEVE ONLY IN GARLIC
-
https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
*It is mid morning*
*and some salesmonkey in Mississippi*
*is ringing my number*
*ignoring the grave warn...
A Wise Woman Writes a Survival Manual
-
Morgue File
by Ken Brasier
I do what I can,
whip white horses into froth
to line a horizon
pull at bone layers
to make spit out of fire
fill you w...
Everyday Table
-
This is a poem written for the Midweek Motif on Poets United on “Everyday
Living.”
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/10/poets-united-midweek-motif-ev...
Poets United
-
I happened to visit Poets United and discovered two wonderful ladies, who
have given hours of their time to this creative poetic endeavor are passing
their...
Zipline
-
I was browsing my Facebook page when a promotion from Toroverde - Jebel
Jais Flight popped up. It was offering a 54% discount from its regular
price for y...
How Did It Feel
-
How did it feel
the breath that you held
for heartbeats,
four heartbeats,
a sway hollow knell.
Rattling ribs
till they finally fell
apart - tell me, how did ...
A MOMENT of PERFECT PEACE...
-
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world,...
Poem: ACCEPT
-
*This was written for Poets United's Midweek Motif:*
*Dark Moon, New Moon*
*I have to accept the hurricanes*
*that are happening everywhere*
*Look at them l...
A Lesson in Melittology (or Tea with Plath)
-
“You always made the best tea”, I confess.
Something in the method: fanning the bag
In the cathartic lung space ‘tween spoon and china. ...
Lions and Tigers and Bears
-
Oh my...
Lion, hats and background from the Midnight Reverie collab from Mischief
Circus; the rest from my stash.
I love polar bears!
Tuesday Poem - 'Agnus Dei' by Marty Smith
-
*Agnus Dei*
I carried the lamb in a sack on my horse
It's buggered, said Dad, throw it in the creek.
The creek leaped, dimpled. Small bubbles
whirled, i...
My Parents
-
Courtesy: Poets United
When you two fought
you never knew
how I burnt
in your wrath.
I was a water body,
too brine to taste.
But the Kal-boishakhi*** days...
Tick Tock
-
Tick Tock
I hear my
Biological clock
Ticking away
The eggs I have
In short supply.
“Yuh nuh have
A child, yet?”
He looks at me
Like fertile soil
In whi...
Sad Eyes
-
Photo:SlaRueB weeping in the wind as the willow blows a remembrance of
forgotten times bending branches moves as one as we danced all night to the
Autumn m...
-
Another Day
My smoke alarm is beeping
it sounds like my Peach Faced Lovebird
I have missed him for a long time
sitting on my shoulder, nibbling my ear
now...
Cuz Culcha
-
Sista,
remember makin cinnamon toast
and chewin back
bitz of the periodick table
like it were vitamins.
knowble gases
hevvy metals
an your luv letters
to Jon...
cheers with life
-
*Fill one half*
*in passion*
*Sandy *
*The remaining half*
*in Love ....*
*this is coonect to - **PoetryPantry #287 of PU*
*photo credit here*
*-nuwan-*
Every Scrap
-
Life is fragile
You, my friend, are not so
Such a small creature
You have such a
presence
Such a strong grip
on this life-
Claws scratching
Teeth bared
You w...
Ring of Fire by Mary Eliza Crane
-
At the wane of a long season of heat filled yellow sky, fire consumes
mountain forests infested, decimated by bark beetles feasting in their own
changing w...
faded pages
-
*in the days of mostly easy time, *
*there is the odd reminder of another place.*
*fragrant reminiscence in a flash; *
*passed - but in its wake - a trace....
There Comes A Time...
-
when we rethink things. Looking back and reflecting on one thousand
thirty-two posts, six thousand fifty-nine comments, and two hundred eleven
followers ...