cracks in poetry
are not ruins
but gaps to let
meaning breathe
poetry
Edacious
I eat my bad poetry like a goat, and
eat my good poetry like a gourmand.
Glows & blossoms
The glow of the moon is poetry
The blossoming of flowers is poetry
The blossoming of woman is poetry
The glow of woman is poetry—
even more so, because
the light comes from within.
Spring’s sure well-done over, at 100°
Poetic words flow out much better in pleasant climes
Springtime and autumn, more friendly for rhymes
Winter’s good too, the self reflects well in cold times
But blazing summer melts words and numbs minds
Mindpaths
Poetry staggers, drunken but wise, amongst the stars.
Philosophy plots its own steady course to the sun.
Alchemy
A poet swallows life and exhales painted words.
Folio, foliage, fall
Autumn binds poetry in its own withered leaves.
3 a.m. poetry
Night speaks a language of shadows and of the soul. 3 a.m. is poetry translatable only by the moon and stars.
The graceful and beauteous
Flowers rewrite soil, water, and sunshine into petal’d poetry.
William Birdsworth, Alfred Lord Wrenison, Henry Wadsworth Songfellow, Rudyard Chirpling
Autumn birds speak cheerful poetry from their berry-stained beaks.