OneSingleImpression, Poetry, tanka

inamorata

one single impression: this week’s prompt by leo is joie de vivre (the joy of living)
photo: Seashells, miqul, flickr

i’ve used tanka [5-7-5-7-7] and a cleave [for those who wanna know] which was one of the prompts for read write poem april 2010 napowrimo

anchored in your blue eyes  watching the drift of tides
swimming in a sea of blue  shifting sandbar wet door reveal
backstroke blue divine  nestled sleeping shells
submerge serenade sublime   simple treasures lure me near
the line of your lips thrill me   surplus exhilaration

inamorata. lover

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Haiku, OneSingleImpression, Poetry

moon tide and sea

one single impression: enigma
photo: morning tide, danimal174, flickr

bright white mystic moon
pulling tugging worldly waters
restless constant waves

unbound boundary
intangible sightless strings
guardian shoreline

playful mystery
tempestuous tidal train
sailing sunny days

acres of oceans
salty water hydrosphere
body surf magic

deep uncloak design
below shining fluent fish
never sleeping still

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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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