Tag: weekly

grounded dreams (20160621)

crow9 Comments

i don’t know the meaning
of dreams anymore.
i raise my hands but there is no
parting of the clouds.

i tried automatic writing
once. i let the other
take over. scribbles and cries–
i don’t know. the meaning

may be buried under the ground
struggling, but ready to bloom.
or is it just the decay
of dreams? anymore,

i find that it doesn’t matter.
i don’t need to understand
how the automatic door works.
i pretend to use the force.
i raise my hands.

it obeys, and opens.
i find that there are still
surprises left to be surprised by,
and maybe one more
parting of the clouds.

——

for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #42
MEANING | RAISE | CRY | DREAM | GROUND

metamorphosis in red (20160531)

crow8 Comments

pain paints a soft portrait in reds
subdued in whisper-light silk threads
(cover us in dark cocoon)

what will appear? we dare to ask
while tugging at the silken mask
(the texture ruptures much too soon)

flame emerges to clear the way
swept out like dancing sparks of day
(we shame the sun, we shame the moon)

with wings of midnight, ashen eyes
we make ascent to starless skies
(dancing again to pain’s red tune)

——

for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #39
| PAINT | CLEAR | DARE | COVER | DANCE |

blank line (20160530)

crow

your hand is covered in dream
wet protein
all a body needs
running down
your finger
to the curve of your wrist

i dream of tracing that line
with my tongue
licking it salty clean
but you’re already
washing clean
of the whole affair

on the blank line sign your name
trace over the letters
written before
with your hand

——

for
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Blank

the message is the medium (poem 20160519)

crow13 Comments

1280px-jtf_guantanamo_sailor_sends_a_message_in_a_bottle_dvids231291

ignored by meandering seabirds
thrusting beaks into retreating waves
the bottle sat sealed

the occupant
a cylinder of paper rolled
into a tight tube
the way a child would
form a makeshift telescope

no ethereal genie ready to escape
in a plume of silver smoke
no trio of wishes to be granted
by pulling the cork

only paper

paper and words written inside
so that the tube must be unrolled
and held up to the light

do not forget
do not forget
but please
do not remember

——

Jane Dougherty Writes
Poetry challenge #31: Message in a bottle

useless wings (Poem 20160505)

crow19 Comments

i would make dust devils
if a pair of wings
sprouted from my back
like those pictures of angels
from a kid’s illustrated bible
–you know, the one with blond jesus

ah, those wings, so bright
so electric fluoride white
were they just for show
i don’t remember seeing
the angels fly in those pictures

one image i remember–
flaming sword in hand
staring off at the horizon
not even looking at adam and eve
but ready to set up the hue and cry
as they slunk away in the shadow
of its petrified glowing wings
with shame-shadowed stained faces

or maybe he stared at them
disappointment smeared across his mug
insects trying to steal their way
back into a prison called paradise
or envy since they soared
without wings and without
having to carry that dead weight
around on their backs

——

Jane Dougherty Writes
Poetry challenge #29: Tears

your woods (Poem 20160504)

crow12 Comments

i search the wild place
inside you where you left me
you invited me into your woods
under the pretense of a picnic
i expected sandwiches under
these trees, to serve tea, watch
the sunlight dapple the leaves
but i have become lost inside you
my compass is slag in my hand
stars move about the sky unfixed
where the earth should be hard
it moves like water
caught in some legned or fairy tale
i curse myself for not leaving
a trail of small white stones
and listen in this silence for your voice

——

the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #35
5 Words: | WOODS | LEGEND | WILD | HARD | SERVE |