Publishing
Maybe making books
Is fantasy,
All inside my head.
Putting together pretty
Words until the ink is red.
Maybe making books
Requires a bit of whimsy
To see the dreams
Contained within.
Poetry Marathon Hour Nine
Tag: my poetry
Poetry Marathon Hour Seven
What is Love
So much that the poets
Have debated,
Ancient song lyrics
All have joined in to ask,
Not a answer amongst them…
Just another question to ask.
What is love
More than a debate
On human nature,
Emotions, and understanding
Time for grace.
Poetry Marathon Hour Six
I didn’t use the prompt. We had a pet die this morning and I chose to instead use my hour six poem to write about the chicken.
Nugget
You were sweet and onery
Quick to escape and a little bit of fun.
We are sorry to see you go
You started out one of the most mean
Of the litter we received,,
But you mellowed quickly.
We named her nugget because
She was onery and quick witted,
Damn it nugget was often heard…
Now we say that for the tears
Cried because we miss you.
Your funeral pyre was glorious
Go ahead, show the gods
You are magnificent!
Poetry Marathon Hour Five
Music
Music is such a personal thing
Shared by the world
With each hearing it uniquely.
The dreams are nightmares collectively,
For the lyrics are interpreted
Quite different depending on
The soul.
Some just hear only the beat,
Others need the lyrics
To connect
Soulfully.
Poetry Marathon Hour Four
Marriage
Two souls intertwine,
The choices made
Were made combined.
Through the good,
The bad and the in between
I am with you and you are with me.
And if death does do us part,
Please know that with you
Goes my heart.
The vows were made in truest faith
Before family, friends, and all that came.
All the years, the struggles, the tears,
And not a thing would I change.
You and I are everything
That I wanted in my
Day to day.
Poetry Marathon hour Three
Looking Into the Void
The edge is a tempting place
For me to go to scream,
Looking into the Void
I can scream about all the things
That I should somehow avoid.
The edge calls me forth,
The need to speak unto the void.
A eternity at my feet
With the wind pulling me
Towards the edge.
Poetry Marathon hour two
Who’s to Blame
The age old question is asked
Again and again,
Who’s to blame,
What is the fault?
So much blame to be handed about,
Instead of accepting that we all
Have a hand in the end results,
Instead of handing out blame
Why not allow humanity
Room for mistakes?
Poety Marathon hour one
About us draped the past
Please understand that we have always
Had the past wrapped around us,
Echoing the moments that we lived…
We wore it proudly because it made us
Into the people that we were,
Folding us like origami into individual selves…
Perhaps it was too heavy for some,
That cloak of memories,
But it still was a part
Of the way that
Humanity dressed.
Monday Poetry
Today is one of mine and one of Serena’s poems, Mostly because Serena has been writing more than I have. Her Midnight Verse is nearing done. I have barely started with Echoes.
Prompts, ideas, and rabbit holes
Ah… my brain is burning.
I wish I could claim it was just the heat.
Here lately I have been getting spurts of inspiration… and urges to write or create. It always makes me feel like I’m feverish.
I can remember when I wrote when the muse struck me and the idea of using prompts seemed like cheating. Now, the prompts are more like a spring board. I am often less worried about the prompt than I am what I want to say.
I end up feeling like the prompts don’t fit with the idea of the volume I have been working on and I pass them by. I get a vision of what I want the book to look like and then I just don’t want it to be anything less.
Now that leads me down rabbit holes looking for just the right prompt, just the right idea to be just the right poem. Perhaps perfectionism is a true problem…
Pattimouse 