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 A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, and got in your eye. |
| Something is burning right now... have to revisit this, even though the two-line poem stands on its own: "Invalid Entry"  coffee first and more music by Cannons, and we'll see... But, afraid to get up, thinking all morning, 'please don't disturb this groove.' Hoping coffee doesn't sober me to another realization after reconsidering my poems in this hollow dome. 3.28.22 |
| This was announced once in newsfeed about four days ago....but... Have I mentioned by now? Why haven't I boasted? Anyway:
that earned me my second title in three years. The middle I had off to help judge the contest in 2021. And even though it's linked in the above item, I post below my winning 'shape poem' from 2020, purely to gloat? No.
The shape poem, in itself, was a much more impressive feat. I've had metered poetry drilled into my head so much since a lad, it tasted like caramelized candy clamped to my canines. I still enjoy the lyrical, rhymey stuff from time to time, but was steered right into the arms of dear vers libre (free verse). 3.27.22 Now, I can't just blog and newsfeed post all these little ditties, and play the contests. Got to spread my wings through this community more, get back to reviewing and other activities. I'm like a ghost these days. |
| Out The Bay Window, We Roam Where wildflowers will wander, yet unknown. Sun streams and chills chase a winter room, ending gloom. In recliner, fully cocked, renewal absorbed. A chick yellow-hatched, hides within the white lamb. The good sun seeks another yard. On padded plane, I dream a lad spring clad, weatherproof rubbers, and mad. In a crush, murk-brown vaults eternally splashed. Frozen time glistens a reflection fading fast. Safe signaled, dry eyes toss up the sash. Cardinal and blue jay flit to and fro, feather from feeder, as felines watch below. Screened fragrance flows freely within. Dust-lungs deep inhale, exhale soft memory of the lost, sweet and youthful. A panorama once a haze, now a glint of hued blaze. No clouds clasp a quiet horizon sunken deep. Bones seep in sinew of this quiet regeneration. 16 lines, free-flowing, free verse 3.22.22 3.28.22 major edit Abridged, edited from this month's epic output on Spring: "Invalid Entry" |
Wrote this one month after joining WDC, 15 1/2 years ago.
How much have I grown as a writer? |
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Great poem, Brian.
Dreams feel good though. Thanks for posting this one, Brian 
