Little Bits

Love.

A heart’s longing.

Life.

A day dawning.

Song.

A poem’s calling.

Never Stop

Legs bent in a diagonal
I sit on my feet
head leaning on the wall
watching you run
run the circle in our house
"NO running in the house,"
expired long ago
as you got faster
laughed harder, who could stop you
I watch you chase her
grabbing the wall
swinging around the curve
you run
run out of breath and have to stop
bending down for breath
smile blazing
sister tags and you're off
I watch you run around the circle
a little bigger at every turn
when will you stop running
stop to take a breath
a longer breath
and then just stop.
I ask,
you answer
"I'm never going to stop."
I'm good with that.
Never stop.

Jingling Chatter

Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge has the roundup today.

Coins clatter
pocket chatter
splitting through
the walls of matter
straight in my ears
out through my eyes
a jangling jingle
in disguise.

Yesterday I chalked the first two lines of this poem as part of my Chalk-A-Day for #nerdlution on Twitter. I thought I would expand on it and think more about what I was visualizing when I wrote those first two lines. In the spirit of the season, a jingle bell came into play, but it didn't stay.

Eternal

Poetry Friday is hosted today at Carol's Corner.

I was reading some posts this morning. I stopped by Teacherdance to visit Linda's latest offering and got inspired to write this:

Poetry,

in a state of arrest?

No.

No need for resurrection

or defibrillation.

It lives each day

in a flow of words

from my pitcher.

It fills my cup, brimming

spilling over onto my page.

Poetry is eternal.

 

Poem Song

 Find the roundup at Write.Sketch.Repeat. for a feast of poetry!

A poem song

rose into the red

it bleed on rocks

and flower beds

it flowed on rivers

dark and deep

it flew on surface

mirrored trees

I watched it glide

I went on by

the poem song

sung its lullaby

A Flake in Fall

flakes fall
the first snow
cold on my head
freezing my toes
I stand in the air
I breathe
like a dream
the flakes
like vapor
disappear
dissipate
my discouraged hour
gone
I awake

Join the poetry party at Random Noodling.

Tiny Hands

Visit Cathy for the round-up at Merely Day By Day.

Tiny things...this seems to be on my mind lately. I wrote a post on Two Writing Teachers Thursday and a commenter said it sounded like the start of a poem. I thought, of course, it must be. So I went with it and created a little poem about tiny hands.

Tiny hands

miniature fingers

tipped with limitless stories

tiny hands holding

new beginnings

creating memories

tiny but mighty.