It is possible that short lightning flash poems evoke in readers more of our own stories than do longer poems. Thank you for your stolen gem moments shared in beauty.
“…their hatched eggs
are overrun by ants.”
Once our Congressman and a New Mexico State Trooper came into my public school “Twice Exceptional Gifted” classroom for a meeting…I did not tell him about his son’s bringing into the class the day before, a Gerber baby food bottle containing a newly dead baby bird which was silently being consumed by ants.
“All my dead dogs
haunt me.”
For many lonely years, I prayed nightly for each of my long gone dogs…Queenie, Bullet, Silkie, Bodger, Rutabaga…and others, each run over in the sun on a rutty clay road out front. Each of my dog ‘best friends’, knew and loved me unconditionally; still a rare thing.
Understand the dragonfly. ❤️Even though a christian, mine is butterflies, and the small bird who kept coming down our chimney on my mother’s day after her funeral❤️ ,despite putting it outside twice!! To me His creation is used to speak to us, if we listen. Lovely poems. The suitcase/traveling one was clever
Perfect. Like pieces in a treasure box, individually laden but speaking together.
Ouch ((the dog one caught my heart))!!
Boiled inside out - that got me
My fav = A memory of the clothesline
where my t-shirts dried
into the shape of an Indian boy
straining against the pins
that he wanted to escape.
Love these poems. The sparsity of words does not detract from the depth of the scene.
More importantly, why didn't you go to the game?
It is possible that short lightning flash poems evoke in readers more of our own stories than do longer poems. Thank you for your stolen gem moments shared in beauty.
“…their hatched eggs
are overrun by ants.”
Once our Congressman and a New Mexico State Trooper came into my public school “Twice Exceptional Gifted” classroom for a meeting…I did not tell him about his son’s bringing into the class the day before, a Gerber baby food bottle containing a newly dead baby bird which was silently being consumed by ants.
“All my dead dogs
haunt me.”
For many lonely years, I prayed nightly for each of my long gone dogs…Queenie, Bullet, Silkie, Bodger, Rutabaga…and others, each run over in the sun on a rutty clay road out front. Each of my dog ‘best friends’, knew and loved me unconditionally; still a rare thing.
“I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that, now.”
Dylan/Byrds
❤️
Beautiful
Love itself isn't rare
but our caretaking
of love is haphazard
and too often spare.
This one plucked at my heartstrings and brought tears to my eyes.
I love that you record. I listened after I woke up, before I was ready to get out of bed.
Beautiful poem! I love your writing.
I like the idea of wishing for rain to stop so as to not be cleansed
*’The day after my mothers funeral’🤦♀️a whole sentence typo, sorry
Understand the dragonfly. ❤️Even though a christian, mine is butterflies, and the small bird who kept coming down our chimney on my mother’s day after her funeral❤️ ,despite putting it outside twice!! To me His creation is used to speak to us, if we listen. Lovely poems. The suitcase/traveling one was clever
William Stafford, One of my Heroes, Is Proud o you Sherman. And I am inspired to write again after 3 years. Thank You.
Lovely. And a few, heartbreaking, as with “All my dead dogs
haunt me.”