Tag: poet

Fickle

Curvy Girl1 Comment

Love is a fickle thing
“it smites my heart with sudden reckoning”
says a poet from long ago.

I cannot remember who
but they capture my attention so
that poet

Love is the elusive thing I cannot catch
like a butterfly flitters away from a child
in a field

I decided long ago to sit and wait
for it to alight upon me

that butterfly

So I sat in that field
watching the butterfly flutter and dip
flirting with my heart

fickle thing

Inconstant thing,
that butterfly
then, like the sun rising over the trees

an epiphany

Love is not the butterfly
I do not want iridescent fragile wings
that cannot hold up

when the weather is not so fair
the sun not shining through
those jewel colored wings

A strong wind will blow that butterfly
quickly off course
leaving me yet again

feeble thing

I lay back, upon the ground
the earth solid beneath me
what I’d been seeking
had been quietly there all along.

Random Spring-y-ness!

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blooming flowers
balmy breezes
pollen in the air
makes me sneezes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

slow slow slow
the flowers grow
green green green
the leaves are seen
bloom bloom bloom
colors go BOOM!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

little pebble
little pebble
in my shoe
stuck inside
just like glue!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my hair in a barrette
enjoying nature’s treat
a velvet carpet
under my feet
I plant my as-
sets on the sweet
smelling grass
perusing her bounty
letting time pass

I wrote these short poems over the course of a couple of weeks, while enjoying the late Spring/early Summer weather. They work well as a grouping, rather than separate posts. Enjoy!

Come Dance

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Catching the poet
At work and at play
As they put pen to page
Their frozen words on fire

Silent roads they build
Endless places they go
With bleeding pens and
Retractable hearts
Their strokes
Painting life with words

All those things they say
To give your heart wings
To capture the moments we miss
creating photographs with words

Like stealing glances of life
In a virtual coffee shop
Of all the glittery little things
A self portrait
Of a species living together

These crazy dreams we dream
So that new stars may shine,
That secret place we keep apart
Because deep are these solaces we hide
Where words are left to play alone
Echoing endlessly

They let the pipers play on paper
They capture the marching
of our individual beats
The best of every
season of our Lives
That we carve into
the woodwork of our hearts

So what are you waiting for?
I find myself right now
wanting to join them
For you to say “and what
Is this? Whatever in the world?”

Well, Don’t just stand there!
Good grief already, join us
Put your pen to paper
And come dance with words

This piece was written in response to a poetry writing exercise. I don’t have the original list of words, but the usual was to select 5 or 10 from the list, and use them for inspiration. I always like to use the entire list, as it challenges you to really see how all these random words can be tied together. =)