I Once Again Write About The Sky I haven’t seen the stars in almost four months. At least not ones that are actually in the sky above me in that moment. Instead of I see miles of orange stretching across the horizon. Not that delicious…

If I could Walk Around Heaven   I would quickly break out into a run and jump into the arms of Frances and Bernard momma and dad   Squeezing tight with an unbreakable grasp   bracing my heart and steady my focus to hear them…

Forest Piano I hear a haunting melody In the forest moving from tree to tree Winter, Summer, Spring or Fall, This song is not so strange at all It plays in nature’s harmony A piano tune just flying free   I hope someday to find…

Whoot, making progress, doing all the things, I am so very excited to see what I come up with this hour and what you folks do too! My prompt this time around is “Where do the stars go?” and it is from a pre-made prompt…

For Hour 4, I used both the text and visual prompts. The first line of this poem comes from the last line of the 1984 English translation (by Michael Henry Heim) of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. The strains of the piano and…

On Friday, I read a lot of Zentangle poems. A zentangle poem is a blackout or erasure poem, a sort of found poem with designs made on the unused portions, instead of just blacking out the extra words. Read more about it on this post…

Appetite, I am tired of you. Truly, I am. You wax and wane like the moon, gurgle like a rushing brook over too many rocks. Can you please be still? Please? Think of what I need, not what you want. Another cookie… six pieces of…

Hour 4 prompt: an epistolary poem.

Dear Keni, They haven’t solved your death. I think about you and your last breath. The coroner doesn’t return my calls. No one speaks of your blood splattered on your paintings and walls. Your dog is happy and with a friend. I have not forgotten…

Your green is sullied by the point of view of birds, Redeemed in a different angle That sees you blue. They hug you and you carry them. But every so often, You blacken that which you nurture, Spit on the face of an adventurer, Thinking,…