Before mercurial attitudesI am clam –emotions shuttered Not that silence is calm –oppressed energy a danger –even shells can burst Question is whereshrapnel will strikewhen inevitable happens (Image my own)
What is it about alleysmagnifies fear? Is it the reflectionof inner passages,those narrow, dim lityears, when despair echoed endlessly? Days I forgotto look for light,imagined none discredited the truththat glory dwellseven in dark alleys. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
The Great Blue heron declares me an annoyanceto which the Blue Jays rasp accordance –I know I am akin to predatorbut I come here with needto this bug-infestedweed-riddenriverbed To be Tornas I amby an undefinablerustle, an inner bleedthat craves patterns, or signsnaturally occurring rhythms to definemy place within this current worldly disorder (Image my own)
VJ, great pic, alliterative title and nice poem. Those “flirtatious Susans.” Love it, Keith
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Thanks Keith!
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Love. I can hear myself reciting this to my Susan’s in the garden.
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Thanks Heather.
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A pleasure.
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Your poem is a perfect description! So lovely V.J.! ❤
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Thank you, Deborah.
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