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.
—Terri Guillemets, 2019 May 17th
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.
—Terri Guillemets, 2019 May 17th
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
—Terri Guillemets, 2019 April 25th
Poetry staggers, drunken but wise, amongst the stars.
Philosophy plots its own steady course to the sun.
—Terri Guillemets, 2018 July 23rd
A poet swallows life and exhales painted words.
—Terri Guillemets, 2016 March 13th
Autumn binds poetry in its own withered leaves.
—Terri Guillemets, 2013 October 27th
Night speaks a language of shadows and of the soul. 3 a.m. is poetry translatable only by the moon and stars.
—Terri Guillemets, 2009 December 9th
Flowers rewrite soil, water, and sunshine into petal’d poetry.
—Terri Guillemets, 2007 March 11th
Autumn birds speak cheerful poetry from their berry-stained beaks.
—Terri Guillemets, 2006 September 25th
Prose is poetry that can’t stop talking.
—Terri Guillemets, 1996 May 22nd
Her skull was cracked—
not tragically, just poetically.
It’s how all the poems got in,
—and out.
—Terri Guillemets, 1994 April 9th