Pressing

Pressing I need to write — I’m not sure why All I want is to touch the sky Yet all I do is squirm through the earth I don’t want to hear all the caterpillar metaphors I see what happens to the earthworms Food for birds Drying out in the hot sun Dying on the…

Daffodil

Last year around this time I was cranking out some serious poetry. This year it seems I just stare at the screen. That can be quite frustrating. So forgive me if today’s post seems labored, because it somewhat was. However, as is usual, once I get started it seems some goodness always comes from it….

The Hope

The Hope Poetry shouldn’t be forced I’m not sure anything good comes from coercion I’m so impeded, the words won’t come They are there in my mind, in my soul Yet there is this dark blockade Anger, fatigue, self-doubt, irritation, impatience These are the bricks in the wall   I so often wait around for…

Sensing

Sensing I have sensed the poetic Yet I have yet to engage it That delight seems to flit around in great whimsy and flight When I try to approach it with determination and might It surely just whisps away Or possibly I might squash it like an annoying ant Under the padding of my thumb…

Alight

Alight I’m ready to float right out of this universe Alight onto another Far more distant than this one Yet closer than the breath of my lungs I breathe the same air as the warlords, the bright ones That spread love and peace and happiness and battle The ones that make their swords all rattle…