Read
Write
Repeat
I have
no
words left.
.
I have
no
tears left.
.
I have
no
fears left
.
I have
no
thing left.
.
.
.
Just playing with forms, here. Don’t fret. 🙂
No sneaking
No whispers
No clandestine act
Engine patters
Garage door rumbles
Back door slams
Yet a happy greeting yields hours of anxieties.
Something is not working here.
I love the simplicity
of this collection,
but it’s
bordering on saccharine
almost
syrup on my waffles,
but not
quite.
.
.
(I had an official poetry critique by a famous writer/poet today. I have never had my poetry critiqued by anyone ‘in the biz.’ This is the summary of the observations on the 20 or so love poems submitted. 😉 Apparently I should aim to be a *bit* edgier. I think this is quite wonderful, actually).
I’m filled with words
Your words.
My words.
Our words.
A story concocted in laughter.
A story unraveling fears.
A story exploding conjecture.
A story that brings forth your tears.
I am filled with our words
softly spoken
I am filled with our words
shouted loud
I am filled with our words
barely whispered
I am filled with our words
lacking sounds.
Your words.
My words.
Our
story.
.
.
Enjoying a lovely weekend with amazing authors like Charles De Lint, Kathryn Para, Anne De Grace at the Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival. Collected a lovely certificate and cheque for a writing contest prize, as well. 🙂
It’s crowded
in my head
No room for tunes
or truth festooned
across your bed
It’s crowded.