Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm. Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story. Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in...
Twit? You? Not a chance, the poetry you shared proves otherwise.
ReplyDeleteYou ain't no twit
ReplyDeleteNever heard you giggle
Sun sets on frogs
..
Et tu, Chrissa?
ReplyDeleteDespite the risk of Shay scorning me forever, I have to say I enjoy the occasional *well-written* haiku, which this is. It's excellent. Sadly, the form is probably the most abused one out there. But no twit could have written this one.
ReplyDeleteYour lines are evocative and bring much to think on in such a few words. Also, you are as far from being a twit as I am from winning a marathon or a beauty pageant. You are one of the most brilliant poets I know my friend! Never forget it!!!! <3
ReplyDeleteI'm convinced you don't qualify for twitdom!
ReplyDeleteI hear the thunder of hoof and see the shifting earth. This is very very evocative. Bravo.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog
Much💜love
This is excellent.
ReplyDeleteNo twit, you. I love this!
ReplyDelete