Poetry, sunday whirl, wordle

probably.so

219

sunday whirl wordle no 219

i swear i know every single one
the familiar flush
the perfect press of weight
just enough to claim quietly

the list is long
written in lovely left lingo
only to share with you who know
know the nexus of never-Neverland

who comes to call and collect
that wilderness wind
who whinnies in whispers
tender time, no threats, breathless talk,

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leaves of the poet tree, Poetry

just because

leaves of the poet tree. today’s prompt: closed
photo: yellow hibiscus, ozone9999,duke and sarge, flickr

Yellow Hibiscus

here now, resolutely resting
i see something swaying, like
a million long tender threads shimmering

and every sweet sincere sound ever heard
softly beating, an audible flutter
suggesting one tidy admission

telling tonic of time. already been,
then when there was obscurity
the door decidedly had disappeared

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