Every day
release some of the pressure,
let the steam of words blow
rising like mist
falling droplets of thought
caught.
You can make room for new
opportunities
ideas
possibilities
to pen
if you drain your brain
daily.
.
.
Lots of poetic devices in action here, as well as good advice. Thanks syl for the image!
Oh, temptress.
Oversized grey fedora
White top hat with feathered pin.
Black newsboy cap.
These hats cry to come home with me.
I.
Must.
Resist.
Oh!
Purple cloche,
how adorable you are;
you are
entirely
irresistible.
Fine.
I give up.
I’ll wear you home.
.
.
The Irresistible itself, a “Canadian 1918 Hat”
A cloche hat always makes me feel like I’m channeling Phryne Fisher! 🙂
Your anxiety
ripples the air
pushes and pulls me,
threatens my calm.
I’d breathe you my peace
but you inhale all I have
then you rustle and quiver,
vibrating me
into your distress.
The airlines say,
put on your own oxygen mask first.
I need my air.
I.
On the side of the highway
an outstretched wing
unfurled black
feathers twitch in the breeze
that no longer lift it.
.
II.
On the side of the highway
unfurled curls of black
tires lie.
In the wind of passing traffic,
unwound wires twitch.
I blink.
What
exactly
did I see?
The yard is speckled
with black spots
as if a coal train tipped on a fast corner
and sprayed lumps.
Twenty or thirty have spread out and bob
in search of hidden meals
or trouble
as is the nature of crows.
They’re strangely silent this morning,
like blurry eyed truckers
who’ve driven all night
and just want some breakfast
before the day begins.
Astonished eyes
Gushing mouths
They say, “You’re so beautiful.”
Compliments deserve courtesy
“Thank you.”
Warm smile.
Their words are bees,
around a flower.
Droning pleasantries.
You are the only one
who needs to say the line,
and you
do not.
What is beauty?
What fear lies beneath refusal
to see it?
What interpretation of honesty
forces you to decline
to observe it?
Autumn is here
Trees are red tipped or golden.
Mornings are frosty.
And finally the cosmos,
three feet high green lace,
is budding.
A slow universe,
taking its time to unfold
summer pink blooms
on my porch.
Autumn is here,
but
better late
than
never.
Apparently
if you write in verse
on the provincial exam personal composition
you receive a zero,
no matter how cogent your argument
or relevant your allegory.
It’s worse that writing drivel, that doesn’t address the question!
How incredibly
perverse.
How much of the stuff that they make you teach us
Do you really want to teach? He asked
What are you talking about? I reply.
I LOVE this stuff!
We’re passionate about our subject,
glory in the possibilities,
long to share wisdom!
Do you know how many years I studied this stuff?
I adore it all!
Oh,
how wonderful when we connect students to our subject
so they are empowered by it, too.
