Language: Part One

At first glance the morning appeared to be still
A sudden- BOOM! POP!
Silence. And a tickle to the eardrums
Chirping birds
Chatting loudly; a rapid fire of sound through the trees
Each sensory bullet is separate and distinguished.
Disperse….- Converge
A tumultuous linguistic relationship.
Engaging in a syntax dance over and over again:
Sounds flying over and under, twisting, spinning, stepping, clapping
Symphonizing and harmonizing:
Bobbing below, above, and in between the others
Tick. Meep. Cheep. Iii. Eeet. Tiii. Keey. Cuuu.
A structured chaos fluttering through my ears
Stuck in a whirl wind of sound
I reach for free flying feathers

Photo by Im on Tabouring posted on Flickr.com

Breezy still

Candles light the stairs
Reflecting little mysteries
on stone walls.

The green ruffles of my dress
bounce.
Dancing as I ascend;
tickled by romance.

The summer breeze blows still
as our soft words slowly
bake under coal lamps.

Photo by Dysonstar posted on Flickr.com

Cattails in the wind

A predictable sequence of events

life

Were often asked to walk this line...
...well in the direction it is going,
of course.

This line is drawn
with much resistance and disappointment,
as we are governed by the cyclicality of our inescapable
humanness.

It is often the humanness subconsciously
guiding us to cry to nature and wonder
by rivers that overflow with confusion.
Many measure the length of our strait legs,
while others notice the strait cattails bending in the wind



Inspired by "line", a prompt on Weekend Wordsmith

Photo by donsutherland1 on flickr.com

Blue sprouts

Humidity lurks at the surface

of thirsty pupils and suddenly

dives,

piercing,

slicing,

pouring

when blue buds
magically sprout

and then shoot
towards the powder blue sky

as magic dust does
from fairy wands

when a fairy demands romance
in a thunderstorm


Image by Peggy Collins at Flickr.com

Thanks Sara from Poets Who Blog

Thanks for featuring my poem, Eyes for the stars, in your fabulous January Poetry Collection

Winter rain

January 11, minutes before 2AM. The room is a shallow blue with areas of deep violet.My eyes dive and rise in the flickering street lights making reflections in the mirror on the opposite wall.

The sky rumbles. The radiator gurgles loudly in response. I can almost make out words. Is it English? No, definitely Russian. I whisper: yes.. come in

Rushing rain, there is a winter waterfall outside my window dragging loose pebbles. Tap, tap, tick. This room is a closed shell with pearl interiors.

A mermaid attempts to hibernate, but lies sleeplessly clutching dried starfish. In the ceiling I see the dark uncertainty of the deepest sea.

Photo by -Antoine- on flickr

Candy Cane Love

Reds & greens
kiss as they twist
to the last jolly lick-
slipping through
the fingers
of the woman with the peppermint flavored
lips, white lights
flickering behind
her cherry colored
dress, she stares into the chocolate with the green tin wrapping until
it begins to resemble
mistletoe as she makes
two candy canes kiss
and forms a heart<3

Poem inspired by Writer's Island Prompt #11- "Slipped through my fingers"

This beautiful photo was taken by Janoid, posted on Flickr

Thanks 15 Minute Poet

Thanks 15MinutePoet.com for featuring my poem Honesty

Drops on golden wings

Dreamflies often
rise and flood reality
Shielding what is
with gold wings
and cricket-type sounds
piercing a hole into
a well of imagination
where words swim
free of prey and bait

Drops of war, hate, pain, and greed
rain green, red, and black
There is an echo
of pitter patter
on this golden curtain
but only a few words shudder





Photo by GirlsEyeView on Flickr
Prompt for Sunday Scribblings

Eyes for the stars

His eye was the kind that bent and twisted
with a liquid appearance,
deep and shimmery
like bay water at night
when the light bounces
off its calm surface

On contact
any celestial body
could shed its rough surface
and orbit its infinite center
as a planet does around stars.

Photo by won7ders on flickr