The Earth is a Sleeping Pig

The earth is a sleeping pig, stinking, boiling, blunted, blinking, sourly computing every sound in the blinding quiet.   The earth is a precious child. We must attend to every sigh. Rien de plus … There is nothing more or else or other. No other…

Hour 4 text prompt – Unity

Your challenge is to write a poem about the topic of marriage, without ever using the word marriage, and while also ideally avoiding the words spouse, husband, and wife. We started off with promise a love so deep it conflicted With every other chiding adult…

For the Children

Shared love and burdens are scattered embracing all who enter. Separate thoughts and cares change perspectives connect all who enter. Shared hopes and visions shape our future form all who enter. Separate ideals and values value-added dreams build our home.

MY MARRIAGE – #4

He is her safe harbour in every storm She eats all the chocolate He keeps house while she dreams of creating beauty An echo of the life she lives still in the honeymoon  when she wakes beside him looks at his sleeping face and remembers…

Hour Three – Twenty Little Poetry Projects

Wring me out like you did your finest silk shirt that you stained with wine over last night’s dinner. You know it’s dry clean only! If you hadn’t wanted more of its oaky aftertaste. If you hadn’t been watching me out of the corner of…

Unfinished

The meandering rivulets forming the stream of my consciousness belies the constraints of time “Turn in your quiz!” The smooth feel of the purple printed paper scented with the toxins and addictive taste of the ditto copy machine, clicking each paper that steals my time….

Blue

Your blue-tinted needles poked my curiosity. How did you sprout in this terrain? In this drought? In this time of fires running wild? How did you stretch so high and wide in this environment? In this era of distrust? In this time of turmoil? Your…

Hour 3: Feathers 🪶

(Prompt response to Twenty Little Poetry Projects Prompt explanation of Twenty Little Poetry Projects rules at: https://thepoetrymarathon.com/blog/the-poetry-marathon-prompts/prompt-for-hour-three-5) Hope is the thing with feathers She will not be able to speak, to see The time will come Merry will she not be What cannot be said…

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