Poetry

knots

three word wednesday: dare, essence, practical
photo: quiet, ms lume, flicr

quiet...

the subtle essence of C
placed perfectly in the middle
anchors my soul to the sound of a serenade
the tips of my fingers placed so light
soothes the trembling
hardly no one sees

the dare of a challenge
ponders between the days and nights
noting nothing is as practical as an hour practicing
essential to the soul the mind moves
the fingers play and sound
shifts the candle light

Standard
Big Tent Poetry, clause poetry, Poetry, quatrain

imagine

over at big tent poetry the monday prompt is clause poetry, courtesy of  Briar Cat
photo: talkingplant, flickr

Blue sky, bright light

closed eyes swaying
a hum of happiness soars
then was when my eyes opened to
a wash of waves coming ashore

a thousand yellow suns
broadcasting light and warmth
saturated sunday afternoon swim
closed eyes swaying

the heat was building, sweat and
circumstance soon tore open the sky
billowing buds of bejeweled blue benevolence
a hum of happiness soars

contemplating clouds of clarity
fussy feathers fidgeting for freedom
swept away wings sprouted wide
then was when my eyes opened to

a modest and soothing splash
the tingling touch of cool waters
hinting at a home encompassing wrap
a wash of waves coming ashore

Standard
Haiku, OneSingleImpression, Poetry

lost and found

one single impression: this week’s topic suggested by snow white is empty.

located in the most northeast corner of texas where only the wind and fields exist one could hear the telling of abandoned stories so close to home….

remnants of a house
pardon the passive rooms
conscious with the corruptible

wide open window
watching for a future
forever expecting

spirit shadows soaring
waving wings on their way
gold droppings falling fast

being bare of color
vacant wild ramblings roar
smell a rift beguile time

benevolent white clouds bend
hot with heat the sun prevails
delicate dizzy seeds ignite

messy with meaning
intermittent sticky notes
written with a wiry flare

found by fortuity
a hundred years later
the paled paper speaks of age

Standard