subtle moves of hand
create similar ideas of sight
once a photograph
paper animates
transposing patterns of light
the eye moves
colors transcend
light breathed by water
into fruition
a final shimmer
of magic and invocation
as tulip develops
More at http://www.stephenpropergredler.com.
Could you be a bit more negative
Success is only a few steps away from failure
Failure you can count on
It’s the cocoon of despair
Working like a dog is nice
Because you got the big house
But your wife is cheating on you with with the bed bug guy
Your pink golf shirt has a stain you can’t see
Translation: Stay humble
Don’t fall for the hype
All that glitters is fake
Wear more black
Sometimes you wanna tell a woman
Who is a stranger
That you find her to be beautiful in appearance
But I hesitate
It’s not a sexual thing
You just want to make someone’s day
And feel good about that
But I hesitate
She could take the compliment nicely
Or call me a creep
This is a wary city
So its quirky, ya know?
blue skies
white clouds
exchange of vows
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
empty nests
bare branches
memories of you
More at https://twitter.com/Haikuintraining.
Through this dark dread
I will glide like the devil’s tail
beating my mark on every
hope and innocence.
When the rain falls I will be
without humble hands to receive,
I will have lost
my one good gift in life.
I will clock the years
as one who feeds
on the thinning muscle of memory.
And in bed, curled against an indifferent wall,
my mind will turn toward
a new myth
to encapsulate my joy.
I will grow old
like love does, like children do,
like the sparrow will
who rejoices despite a heavy snow. I will be without
your hand to hold and forever
my heart will know no other.
More at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.
Her skeleton legs
stretch out through the fog
of my hazy intentions,
my muddled recollections,
my grit torn, whitewashed,
blacked out, gray perceptions.
Her winnowing path
is not paved in concrete facts,
but can only be traveled
by those light of foot
and willing
to leave the abstract horrors
of yesterday’s towns
and tomorrow’s unknown destinations
in the realm of nowhere nothingness
where all might-have-beens
and still-could-bes belong.
Her mangled elusiveness
draws me into a grainy web of distortion,
and though we both have
our set of scars,
we also have the eternal Nowness
of this One primal moment
that pierces down to the marrow –
so we dance with these hollow bones
along this path to our grave,
laughing in the madness all the while.
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.