**Keep in mind these are in their organic form, as they came in. :)
April 1st
My heart is breathing words,
spilling onto the page without thought.
I write a lot of words, that only make sense to me.
Onto the page.
Words of unspoken love and hope,
Words of compassion and peace,
Words scrawled
Across the page, from the heart .
That lift effortlessly
Into the azure sky
Melting the frost
Of a long winter
That kiss the ground
And bloom the flowers
That bud the trees
And ruffle my hair
The words are mine alone, yet they speak to others
We form a bond with every verse.
We change the world with every word.
Making in each word as if it were the last.
Beautiful words that touch the souls of stars that shine brightly
spilling onto the page without thought.
I write a lot of words, that only make sense to me.
Onto the page.
Words of unspoken love and hope,
Words of compassion and peace,
Words scrawled
Across the page, from the heart .
That lift effortlessly
Into the azure sky
Melting the frost
Of a long winter
That kiss the ground
And bloom the flowers
That bud the trees
And ruffle my hair
The words are mine alone, yet they speak to others
We form a bond with every verse.
We change the world with every word.
Making in each word as if it were the last.
Beautiful words that touch the souls of stars that shine brightly
April 2nd
I listen
Intent on writing
Only the words
Not to be forgotten
like the tear drops
on my windowpane
washed away by time,
leaving only an
invisible streak scar
I whisper the names
of trinkets stored under
the cover of an old notebook.
A yellow pansy, a cartoon from the New Yorker
sent by a college suitor, a black and white photo
of a girl I once knew well. In bursts I remember.
Scramble from my pen,
Take up residence in my notebook,
Waiting to be
Refined.
And again in bursts, the kids come home, slamming the door open, yelling, "What's for dinner, Mom? I'm starving!"
Intent on writing
Only the words
Not to be forgotten
like the tear drops
on my windowpane
washed away by time,
leaving only an
invisible streak scar
I whisper the names
of trinkets stored under
the cover of an old notebook.
A yellow pansy, a cartoon from the New Yorker
sent by a college suitor, a black and white photo
of a girl I once knew well. In bursts I remember.
Scramble from my pen,
Take up residence in my notebook,
Waiting to be
Refined.
And again in bursts, the kids come home, slamming the door open, yelling, "What's for dinner, Mom? I'm starving!"
April 3rd
My thoughts lit by fire
I search in the ash
I search in the ash
Desperate
to find
What I know is now lost
I look to the sky
the clouds full of dust
What I know is now lost
I look to the sky
the clouds full of dust
I’m
mesmerized by flames that glistens toward the stars
as
the sky explodes with brilliance
and
fills my soul with the stars
My
mind rumbles
Memories
burning to be set free
Restrained
only by the sanguine regrets of choices not made
And
our struggle to accept our missed opportunities while building new dreams
I
push at the dust,
watch
it dance in the air.
Swirling
through time,
I
search for reason and rhyme.
How
I wish I could sparkle as the flame I once was,
that
my layers of colors would be somehow understood.
By
no one but me
Dance
in my head,
Eager to find their way into the world.
They hover and smolder
They crackle and swirl
The flame is lit
New ideas explode!
Eager to find their way into the world.
They hover and smolder
They crackle and swirl
The flame is lit
New ideas explode!
April 4th
Hunting doubted dreams,
I tiptoe with my net
quiet like a mouse,
slipping through the dark
Stalking my prey,
ready to pounce
To be a spider with webbed fingers,
but then my dreams be burdened with chances of rain
or a sudden burst of light letting my secret slip away
Standing silent I put down my net and listen
I tiptoe with my net
quiet like a mouse,
slipping through the dark
Stalking my prey,
ready to pounce
To be a spider with webbed fingers,
but then my dreams be burdened with chances of rain
or a sudden burst of light letting my secret slip away
Standing silent I put down my net and listen
April 5th
Mingling limbs, entangle the night
The
moon rests upon their branches.
Swaying
gently in the wind
Stretching
to reach the worlds above
Stars
gaze down in adoration
love
Gazing
up at the sky above
The
whispers heard by only a few
Yet
many knew their name
They
float just out of reach
Silver
moonlight surrounds them
Reach,
Reach....They are yours.
April 6th
Weathered memories
plucked
by fingers frail
Like
the string of a bow that now sits unused
Past
celebrations play like movie reels in the mind.
emotions
tumble in swiftly changing
Tears
once shed in joy, now fall in sorrow.
But
still, hope resides in the pages of this book bound by time
and
chapters not yet ventured
With
every ending bringing a new beginning
Every
beginning bringing new memories, seasoned until weathered again
It's
a salt and pepper life, with a dash of paprika.
A
splash of wine, some lemon zest, the scent of joy, and a sweet caress.
Slip
to the back of the mind to be retrieved in the dawn of a new day
This looks like such fun! I hope I get a chance to take part this month!
ReplyDeleteI agree. What a fabulous project.
ReplyDeleteOh do join in. It is a much "quicker" turn around than the Progressive Poem at Irene Latham's blog! So in a way, less stress. Thanks, Betsy and all participants.
ReplyDeleteJanet F. aka Janet Clare on FB
Inventive, Betsy!
ReplyDeleteAs is your Friday chalk & poem celebration.
I've found them each via Poetry Friday.
j a n
Jan Godown Annino/Bookseedstudio