Flock #37: every breath

we are the widest blue we are the air that streams below our wings that holds us we are the sky every breath we breathe is freedom ~

On inspiration and structure

My own small and simplistic examination of the process of creating a seventeen syllable poem, over on my author page. Please feel welcome to comment. ~

no gravity

creature of air grounded on earth wondering about this thing called gravity held in his heart the knowledge of flight is urgent up on the cliff top leaning into the gale he feels the rush uphold him deep in a dream a twitch of fingers though the air is calm he can rise he leaves …

dream, draw, home to bed

he drew a picture of a house chimney red roof and windows in the picture he drew himself opening a door ~ he drew a picture of a kitchen pots stove and table in the picture he drew himself stealing biscuits hot right off the tray ~ he drew a picture of a hallway flower …

ignition

he had heard of flame described as dancing looking at his arms at the rise and retreat he knew it was apt from blue base to yellow and to orange waves of flame danced all over his skin he didn’t feel burned but he was aware of the intensity of the heat he cast wide …

forty days (in the cup of my hands)

did you walk your forty days was the desert dry did the sand blow stings and whispers your camels did they know the dunes they crossed did they bawl and bray as though all reason was awry perhaps they knew me first for I held you forty dirty days and I held you forty drying …

Flock #36: keep up

keep up my dear don’t fall behind always near are birds of prey the way is safest for you here with us we are your flock keep up ~

an observation (at the last)

he had time to notice as the serpent continued in a serial circumnavigation of him that it seemed to wish to need to touch him with every part of its body and it was only when the last the least tip of its tail embraced him that it began slowly to squeeze ~ Poem #477 …

the passing

he stood mostly concealed looking out through the curtain and the glass deliberately he kept himself in shadow here in the dark only he could watch and here in the shadows only he unseen outside was springtime small islands ... disappearing ... of snow the rest was green in the glow of a newfound sun …

Flock #33: should I need

a balance between the mob the mass the flock and being me myself I alone enough to express myself to be who I am to be close enough to find comfort should I need ~