Haiku, Journal, magpie tales, monday poetry train

the sky is holding

magpie tales no 32 photo and monday poetry train revisited no 98
What’s the Weather Like? The Sky Is Gray….
Everyday Journal. day two, page two

already i’ve missed quite a few days from my ongoing everyday real life journal. funny how something that appeared as a new and exciting challenge slips through my hands as the sands in an hourglass. remembering dorothy, a prisoner in the bad witch’s castle, i shudder at the horror of time quickly passing…

summer breeze blows cool
around the corners
down the long narrow and wide ways
cool summer breeze comes
whispering wonders caught by
shivering leaves, swaying branches
nestled in between the unperturbed

comes fast quickly
the blowing of autumn
fickle leaves falling
turning brown from green
crunch the sound erases summer

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Napowrimo, Poetry, ReadWritePoem

jimi

read write poem: napowrimo no 1 shuffle a poem. 5 song titles write a poem
photo: there must be some way outta here

 

hey joe
always wondered
where you went

strolling a
still desert
suddenly singing
the wind cries mary

the taste
of gritty sand
brings back the red ring
stone free i’m
spared the stumble

traveling caravan
tinkling bells
bangles and charms
hidden from sight
little wing etched in ink

infinite grains
whirling webs
shifting sentiment
castles are made of sand

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3WW

full moon tide

3www: errant, murky, hanker
photo: backstroke, hiddentime, flickr

backstroke

backstroke covers everything
concentrate the rhythm
murky mystic mountain
errant waters collide
instant intervals fast and steady
remind me of the reason

we chat often in a backstroke rhythm. across the watered miles our voices hanker for a trusted touch. we concentrate on errant sighs separating past present stretches. we kick with splashing motions,  the mayday mentions of meeting once again.

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3WW, short story

redeem

three word wednesday: darkness, patronize, weaken
photo:  Weeping-Willow, flickr

walking wilson came to realize the road never ends. in the quiet crunch of expression he heard the voices of unwritten stories migrate in a rustling cacophony of untethered leaves blowing in the raw wind of a calm day. camoflaged the shifting spark motivated the report reflected in the stirring sound of birds illuminate a will he clearly comprehended not. spilling over the crowd of forgotten figures soon stopped his forward motion with a desire to affect his untouched story silent in the scattering seconds. disturbing the darkness began a patronizing story with a single purpose to weaken his way. hungry for a smoke he smiled and sat on a soft stone of scrutiny watching and waiting.

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