Haiku, OneSingleImpression, Poetry

herd

this weeks one single impression sunday prompt no 144: meld, courtesy of Creative Cottage Dreamer ; photo: save wild horse herd, courthousenews.com

tied to a free range
horses canter and run free
spring summer winter

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not for long if BLM has their way in the pryor mountains of montana.. if you like your freedom you may want to consider a moment and remember cloud

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Big Tent Poetry, CafeWriting, short story, the bistro

voodoo child

big tent poetry monday prompt this week offers a wordle of wonder
cafe writing – the bistro, do you believe in magic, option 2 poetry

hung around his neck  a tinkling sound of seashells and the roar of tsunami splashed wet at his feet. his cupped hands dripping with honey, the bees stayed too. come he motions, his words prancing in a chorus line of thundering hoofs, i’ll not wait forever. shoeless she wanders awake in a world of alice. his cheshire smile remains sincere while her thirst resurfaced in the ash pit of frozen fire longing for heat. who could tell the connection he held with gentleness as he roped her in.

listening to some great music, jimi hendrix always always brings it on….

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3WW, Poetry

bird on a wire

thomg’s three word wednesday: this week’s offer: abrupt, kernel, wield
photo: bird on a wire, miguel lasa, photo.net

a kernel kept quiet beneath his steel wing
the beating heart of a breathing man
let him be as a distant silver shining knight
wielding his weight upon his white steed
abrupt his flight steady his gait

and for those who would enjoy leonard cohen, bird on a wire 2009…

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Big Tent Poetry, Poetry

Red Lips

Big Tent Poetry: circus
photo:   sonora carver and red lips

eavesdrop on the early
budding bright beginning
adventurous reading upside down
cuddle crazy craving
pink sparkles, ballerina tutu
dainty diamond slippers

umbrella balancing act
riding relaxed rendevous
anchored to her strong back
she’d carry me
beyond the hills and
valleys of this small
town world
my pony and me

answering an ad
a simple task of turning
ink stained pages
the phone rings wild

there wasn’t much to it
together
we rode the tourist tempest
waxed wings melt

we’d climb
up high
about 30
sometimes 60 feet
and with swift stride
we’d leap and soar
diving downwards
plummeting plunge

sooner or later
inevitable
we’d make land
with a splash

sensing the surface
of cool waters
a deep pool
of water waiting
encompass our weight
happy for momentary flight

Red Lips was the name of the horse she rode and the horse diver was sonora carver [great link to story]

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3WW

gallop gone

three word wednesday: pulse, shard, weary
photo: DennisKirk , flickr

weary awakening not much sleep
a particular star in last night’s sky
comet comes calling cerebral glide
riding saddle summons
possibility  persist stirruped feet engaged

light recognition dawn’s racing hoofbeats
gravity’s pulse and pull homeward descent
earthbound tied a dreamer’s plunge
water splash array no need for air

slipping soothe surround soft bed
shards of cosmos between my toes
morning confessions yoke disclose
trying to catch the 6am train

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Napowrimo, Poefusion, Poetry, ReadWritePoem

tangled up in blue

read write poem: napowrimo, day 14; michelle’s poefusion: no 30, pick a favorite poem and make a new poem by adding lines of your own between each pair of original lines–i picked gregory orr, entitled “love poem;” photo: bob dylan, photobucket

 

a black biplane crashes through the window
massive magnificent a white horse galloping fast
of the luncheonette. the pilot climbs down,
veranda intrusion metal clanging knight
removing his leather hood.
gallently dismounts he bows in noble manner
he hands me my grandmother’s jade ring
humming musical notes twirl round his metal helmet
no, it is two robin’s eggs and
bob dylan in dark glasses a hundred years ago
a telephone number: yours.
twangs a familar sonnet remembering our forgotten.

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3WW

fire and smoke

monday a message waiting..come close while the white full moon caresses the clear midnight. shackled to unwritten history i hear the chanting music of his beads and feathers quietly observe the ticking of uncertainty where he has no place to print his soft moccasin feet. floating along the cool quiet river, our heads bent in one breath we divulge a delicate language filled with intimate familiarity. with simple dexterity he navigates the watered tales of ancient days when we rode together on a spotted horse racing across open windows. caught by lightning’s whim, i can do nothing but stay until we cross again in a thunderous storm.
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Bones 3 word wednesday prompt offers this week: intimate, river, waiting
photo: Dancing in the Moonlight, I am Contrast, flickr

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