Poetry

letting go

a new prompt i found today rebecca’s stumbling toward ecstasy
and beverly’s pink saturday …been away far too long, feel the pink calling…;
photo: parasol, TheJane, flickr

Parasol

hear the harmony
of happiness
so simple so sweet
a melodic measure
of hope ascending high

springing forth
pouring over
sprouting serenity
delicious day divine

allow me to turn upon
this day of disentangle
rising rich and mighty
conscious cognizant
wearing waterless wings

where my purple skirt
floats with ruffled
ruminations
exposing a net
of pink perhaps and
yellow yearnings

stumbling silly
arrested with wanting
loaded with laughter
where what does
matter but now

propitious persnickety cupcakes
shining with sparkle
backed by vanilla icing
delivers by display
proclaiming
hold on!

came to discover another prompt of rebecca’s recuerda mi corazon today via magical mystery teacher poem from another prompt – one single impression – so…. totally influenced by their response i have responded…. this could have a thousand or so, possibly one meaning(s)… but of course i indulged in the prompt title… whole, feet first… thank you for such a spirited post the both of you…

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pink saturday

awestruck

beverly’s pink saturday
photo: Petals fall from her glance, ~ geisha ~, flickr

waiting was always a weak point
impatience poured out
in a rainbow array of flowing water
tiny bubbles communally commuting

listening was a distraction
the songs served in continuous rhythm
dripping water from a spout
left unrestrained

expectations began to brew
a remembrance eerily recalled
fluttering flowers cascading
unannounced deluge

sniffing the quiet, nose lifted
a sweet scent arose
pink pretty rose petals

reckoning suspended
considering, fated to stay
slowly sipping a beer

soon the snow began to fall
lightly constrained
the open window told tales
reflecting a white misty veil

watching, as a witness
merry laughter smiled
moving snow drifts
discounting the current country song
something about cadillacs and hillbilly music

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3WW

anchored

thomg three word wednesday: crush, knack, varied;
read write poem: naprowrimo day 3
photo: JVLIVS © ®™, flickr

sitting with others
she soon lost herself
in the crush of scented
lavendar and pink rose petals
gathered in a small echo of time

no longer participating
she simply moved with
the sway of varied winds
along the shoreline of
mystic rivers flowing

finding the knack
of effortless escape
became her redemption
in a homeland adrift

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Poefusion, PoefusionFriday5, readwriteimage

discover

Michelle’s Poefusion Friday Five: freckle, evade, peck, scoot, dash
ReadWritePoem: ReadWriteImage No 11
photo: Strange Fruit Helsinki, Lucasrocha, flickr

1239071815_b296ce08a2

the diverse collection of
my ruffled significant substance
evades the enigma
of where i have roamed

honor and trust
the color of freckled turquoise
transform in string and bead
rattle the observant

persuasive pebbles mingle
with singing cowrie shells
disturbing the depths
peck at the performance

subdued by solid gravity
layers of time and rock
resolve recollections
once imagined in transit

cleave a dash of daydreamer
with ruinous ropes of risk
parade the progression of paradise
breathe the fluid free

rushing towards the rigid rim
whimpering whispers
scamper and scoot
reveal my pink purpose
perched upon
a swaying stick

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pink saturday, short story

post it note

beverly’s pink saturday
photo: missvivien, flickr

there was something left over from our yesterday… i thought it may have something to do with you and what you said. something i didn’t see but you did. unexpected, underneath rippling wet splash

and here now mingling with today there’s that word, interchangeable… later what you saw when you seen the way we wrapped around the noon hour. do you always rise up early or only when the light wakes you?

shall we persist in the tongue barrier of written notes?  it would be much more meaningful if we gathered our sources of limitless language and continued meeting at the noon hour…a few dusty books on your side and a tattered dog-eared page left open on mine

a single sharing of duplicated thought or the invisible lust, plurality of words; listening, we heard the song she wrote in an afterthought of possibilities. something about desire, and finding a way

we can live in kismet now, and later in reminiscing we’ll recall a lifetime of crossing back and forth, only the tide and movement of the moon directing the currency of departure and arrival

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