“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label I dwell in. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I dwell in. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2015
Mi casa es su casa
You dwell in poetry-
A vulnerable Place to linger-
Barbed wire Words on windows
Galvinized steel-for Definition-
Of Places inside, nested under Forest-
In seas of Autonomy-
And to the Horizon
Poetry meets the blurry eye-
Guests-the wandering-
For chance-serendipitous-
The unfolding of another Dimension
Fused within Imagery-
(A mimicry of Emily Dickinson's #466 I dwell in possibility...)
Image by Peleg, Wikimedia Commons, March 2008.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Prey animal
Riding horses is just nuts and bolts, you know if the rider is nuts, the horse bolts. it's true. He knew I loved horses from the start....
-
A year ago this May, in fact, upon this same very grey day- something came over me I found could say, in no other way but to portray, ...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
Failure is all the rage these days. I have been practicing, and I understand the rage. Someone said that melancholy is tragedy handled well....
