For words I did not say, the warm hand I withdrew– my own world so large. ********************** For the words I did say, for the pointing judgment– my own world so small. ***********************
Category: Poetry
The Dream of Freedom
It is 6 AM. The house is dark and quiet. I am soaking in the sweet, brief solitude. Soon the din and stir of the crowd will rule the house. A cold front came in yesterday and cooled down our Texas autumn heat wave. The red oak in my backyard still isn’t red. The cool…
100 Simple Things (just the first ten)
“Sunset at Sea” by Monet 1) I love art and get lost in it, could study one great piece for hours. The best art is metaphorical like this piece by Monet. What metaphor do you see in this? 2) I don’t like peas or lima beans. I stuffed them in my pockets as a kid, so…
‘Certain Slant of Light’
“Evening Light” by Gina Wright, Scottish Painter I love this painting. I get lost in the evening light. I imagine myself sitting on the craggy coast with the spray of ocean water pounding the rocks, the cold and salty air, the wind, the chill, the distant, lost, and lonely feeling as darkness falls.
‘I’m Nobody. Who are You?’
Britney Spears, uh, no uh, Lindsay Lohan, uh, no uh, Paris Hilton, uh… I’m Nobody. Who are You? by Emily Dickinson I’m nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there’s a pair of us–don’t tell! They’d banish us you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public like a frog To tell your name…
Cracks
Cracks On my back in an old hotel in Italy, I would discover plenty of interesting cracks to follow like rivers around the room. But now there is only one long crack in my bedroom at home.
The Moon Tonight
Nice to be under the moon and stars of North America again. I wrote this post in the still of early night, under the moonlight of home.
Fading Fragment
The Colorado sunset this evening captivated us as it melted scarlet into the silver horizon. As we watched the last streaks of pink fade, dark clouds gathered. It began to rain. The moment was ethereal.
Whet Stone
Here is the poem I promised. WHET STONE Whet stone sparkling at the creek bottom, you captivate me through a light prism penetrating the water. Whet stone, you sharpen my senses and strengthen my certitudes of faith. The birds are remembered; the stars are named; hairs are counted; the nations are a drop from a bucket; the islands…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 