Poetry, sunday whirl

1day.part10

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sunday whirl : wordle 232

there’s not much left
a small loss here
a slap that stings there
angels watching
shiver from the cold

some days pass
with little pause
counting scars
instead of stars
there’s so much to remember

love gasps at sleeps escape
desire dials a different dream
darkness snare gathers no dust

notes to self: the real dark side of family and the holidays … thank goodness all has passed…

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Poetry, we write poems

the mystery of a gun.wrp

the characterization of possession
brings boxes of materials
hidden in one’s soul out into the perceivable
till the bang of bringing it home
creates an aperture

Sifting through one another
The empty spaces settle and open wide
Enabling one to peer inside
And observe all there is to us

lifting layers paradise emerges
and the distance becomes ubiquitous
giving more room to the happy sounds
of love and take harmonizing

and then there’s you
where what you thought isn’t there
triggering a low spark of reflection
and firing a loud sound of a sparrow’s sorrow

coming back you find the
gold and silver threads of
lost and found entwined
unaware of your intrusion
making happiness float once again

soon the heart of passing stumbles
and when all is expressed
and silence turns over
one can peek through and satisfy
a questionable answer to our existence as one

over at we write poems prompt no 200 entices the writer with the mystery of brothers and sisters … entitled prompt “The Mystery of a Gun” …. having four sisters and a brother I tried not to jump too quickly into the waters of yes and no….

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Haiku, haiku my heart, Poetry, tanka

almost naked

rebecca’s friday recuerda mi corazon [haiku my heart]
photo: clouds1920, ImageShack.us

born between four sisters
two this way two that way
the best of bookends
digesting white clouds above
we lost life’s bitter aftertaste

…as kids we used to lay on our backs and watch the clouds pass by for hours… life was hard but we had each other to hold onto when it became unbearable… to my sister gogi who laughs at all my jokes… she so gets me…

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Haiku, haiku my heart

haiku my heart.frijoles

every friday love unfolds at rebecca’s recuerda mi corazon [haiku my heart]
photo: pinto beans, basswulf, flickr

Pinto Beans

cleaning pinto beans
mom’s echoing voice caress
posole soup spark

makin posole, making enchiladas, and making not even close to my moms tortillas brings back the spirit of my mom so sweet…. the whole process. she use to make us girls clean the beans, always cleanin beans, and she’s making oh my god homemade tortillas…

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haynaku, Napowrimo, ReadWritePoem

backwards bliss

read write poem: napowrimo day 10 celebrate–any kind of celebration experience, family, friends, the good or bad. for me it was the luxury of french toast all the senses stretched filled with the bizarre and mysterious childhood happiness.
photo: JAlpers, flickr

a
simple meal
french toast feast

magic potion mixture
something special
synthesis

every
sunday morning
just after church

savory
simmering serenade
cinnamon surround clouds

we
sit together
heaven earth bound

mom’s
cooking sings
fulfilling happiness happens

solo
recollecting reverie
flipping french toast

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3WW, short story

distraction

three word wednesday: brazen, hunger, nuzzle
photo: little soldier, kimtojin, flickr

discovering the cure enabled one to forego the everyday attempt of simple gestures. dodging dialogue.  acknowledging the frail. bypassing a morning kiss. a nuzzle of intimacy. hello. yes, i know, i haven’t been a lot of here lately. everything involved the cure and there was no space left to absolve his losing ground. the hunger of the hunter never rested. once the sun set it was a race to find refuge from the brazen onslaught of the unseen enemy.

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