I sit here amongst the broken pencils, crinkled post-its, and abandoned erasers. We live untouched and awkwardly perched, unused and possibly forgotten. My jaw is disjointed and my alignment botched, my blue paint graying in this dusty twilit corner. My staples no longer fit, little metal sparkles lodged in edges of our desk drawer home,Continue reading “Discarded”
Tag Archives: #poetryprompts
Dusk’s Feathered Patience
Pause here a moment undersunset’s stillness, underthe cover of dusk’s feathered patience.Trace the lingering pinktendrils that pool andwane into faded blueskyline, simmering anothermoment, bathing in the glow of yesterday’s memory, and leaving justan echo of quiet. I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt #178. This week’s prompt was provided by Jaideep, whoContinue reading “Dusk’s Feathered Patience”
Waterfall Serenity
Sweetness grows where the waterfall flows,beckoning arms of foamy spray,plummeting over rocks in carefree leapand sparkling with sun’s blessing,splashing fierce in bold whirlwind, dancing and twirling to revealburied treasures of rock and debrisor unguarded hopes and dreamsor a mix of both in its watery tempestand then to surface amidst tranquility,churning that dims to bubblesand basksContinue reading “Waterfall Serenity”
Shore under embrace
dive right indive beyond the shoreshore paved in pebblesshore tossed with waveswaves jostled under storm cloudswaves freckled by sunlightsunlight coating our armssunlight streaking between tree limbslimbs dance under the heavenslimbs splay among the breezebreeze frolics through the treetopsbreeze echoes over the reedsreeds wave along the swamp’s edgereeds play along the dunesdunes sprinkle sand on ourContinue reading “Shore under embrace”
The Befuddled Donsy
Under the vines marched the gnomestheir donsy formed no aisles or rowsthey picked at a green grapethen frowned at the landscapethey were really expecting a plum rose I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt #170. Dennis provided the prompt this week, called “A Donsy of Gnomes”. The details are as follows: YourContinue reading “The Befuddled Donsy”
The Fog’s Secrets
The lake keeps secretsjust like the rest of us, holding them closeunder the watchful eyes.It sits there a while,a bleak tableau,painted in damp mist:a living wilderness.Once you’re inside, the fog envelopes you,entrapping you forever,but never revealing your presence. I missed the deadline on the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt, but I really enjoyed the idea behindContinue reading “The Fog’s Secrets”
Melancholy Music
Youthful hand palms the crank,twisting slowly, eager anticipation.A melody twinkles, softly spiralinglike her dance,all tipped toes and curled arms.Frail, wrinkled hands grip the crank,memories twirling backof moments magniloquent,bolder than life itself,captured in her dance. Ben provided us with a playful prompt this week for the Wea’ve Written Weekly. Below is the background and prompt guidance:Continue reading “Melancholy Music”
After-Shock
She’s nobody’s foolto think she deserved some reprievefrom these headwinds and chaos,the tumultuous dayswhen she was caught up in the storm.Now, she spins circles,finds the air is still loadedwith the damp heaviness that forbodes a second storm. I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt #165, which was provided this week by BobContinue reading “After-Shock”
Lemon These Throats
Sliding beyond the brow, the bend of where noise began. We lemon these throats behind us, whispered under night’s edge. We focused on the impossible, bravely kicking up the dust until we become invisible. We scoured our hells, but they couldn’t make runway for the undergrowth. How many more days will we spend, leaderless, hoveringContinue reading “Lemon These Throats”
Wide-Open Field
the hallway holds a spiraling blur of blinding light,eternal and etherworldly.I step through with hands shading eyes,trying to glimpse the world ahead.For the longest time, it remainedcordoned off,a heavy blockage impenetrable,the stone path held in place by gatesonly partially of my own making:the limit of struggle,the toxins of trauma,too many brick blocks boarding me up.Now,Continue reading “Wide-Open Field”
Words and Coffee Writing 