A place for poems and pics
Changing Seasons
The geese don’t protest the summer’s end, complain about the
flight ahead. They trust the seasons .
Yet we decry each age and stage of our lives, wishing to be other
than ourselves. And in our protestation, our lamentations,
miss the loveliness of now
Quadrille #354: I Protest
Blue Sky Quilt
The sky was an unrelenting blue
quilt this morning.
It wouldn’t tolerate any clouds
cluttering up the atmosphere,
or wrinkling its glossy finish.
And then one small puff appeared.
A little smudge of batting poking through
a small hole worn in the edge, along the horizon.
Slowly, more slivers of white came floating along and the harsh blue sky became softer,
worn to a more comfortable shade by time, and sun, and weather.
dVerse Poetics — Have You Ever Seen the Rain?
Catching a Poem
Spin around three times
Close your eyes and make a wish
Jump as high as you can
Let a moonbeam land on your hand
Put it in a jar
Sing it a gentle lullaby
Listen carefully – it
will whisper a poem to you
rhymeswithbug 