Seaside currents of fresh air
splash on my face
like the water does the earth.
I look out
and am lifted by the very depths of the sea.
I am flying, soaring
though sitting still...
naturally stoned
on a sandy beach.
More Sunday Scribblings.
To have a grudge is to resent...hold against...envy...loathe. To this I say:
Let it out
get it out forever -
it has no place in your sacred soul.
More Weekend Wordsmith writings can be found here.
I cry for no reason other than the emotion of life itself.
Post Note
The American Sentence is a poetic form created by Allen Ginsberg. They are poems that like the Japanese haiku, contain seventeen syllables.
Sometimes I feel you think of me
as three day old bread
or a bottle of soda left open...
but I'm not.
I'm alive and I'm kicking
and soft to the touch still.
I know I am...
and that's what feels the best.
I think more sad
than the dead faces I see
are the tired ones
still trying - still dying.
Here are two of my poems for this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt :time travel.
The time is gone
it isn't there any more.
The place it stays
different than before.
******
That song
brings back the time and the place...
a simpler time,
though I'm bound to say
the same of this.
For more Sunday Scribblings, click here.
The other evening I noticed an elderly woman sitting alone, apparently deep in thought. These words came to me:
I see old people
(I'm becoming one of them)
lost in reflection
of what was and what could have been...
a moment's pause
then on to living.
The other day Colleen at Loose Leaf Notes mentioned that Sally at Cafe del Sol had challenged people to write haikus about coffee for an upcoming reading at Spoken Word Night. While I won't be attending the event, I thought I'd contribute:
Aromatic beans
A perfectly blended brew
Dripping down cup filled.
and another...
A good cup of Joe
In morningtime or at night
Trusted companion.
