panopticulated.blogspot.com
Panopticulated - writing when prompted to do so.: Maybe it will take an Angel
http://panopticulated.blogspot.com/2011/12/maybe-it-will-take-angel.html
Out of my Ocean. My Name is ZING. Sunday, 25 December 2011. Maybe it will take an Angel. My love doesn't need a manger. To hold the new born sun. My heart has known glad tidings. And that joy and peace will come. For we can not all be shepherds,. And our voice may not be heard. In among the haste and flurry,. Of this very modern world. No matter how long we've pondered,. This strange life and its bold decree. I know that most are still afraid,. To be all that we could be. So maybe it will take an angel,.
bozone-bw.blogspot.com
Beyond the Bozone: mother me a meteor
http://bozone-bw.blogspot.com/2011/05/mother-me-meteor.html
Mother me a meteor. She orbits, a planet. Afraid of fallen angels. Frolicking in yellow fields,. Afraid of crying winds. Whisking hair into tails—. Winding life with leaves. Whipping in the gravity. Of twilight’s last glow. She envies each of the planets. And dreams herself a meteor. Falling a fiery hole into Earth. Free from fear forever. She orbits like a planet. Parched and pierced with. No intent and purpose. Round and round and. Saturday, 28 May, 2011. Sunday, 29 May, 2011. Sunday, 29 May, 2011.
ostensible-truth.blogspot.com
Ostensible Truth: On The Box and Deciding Not To Be
http://ostensible-truth.blogspot.com/2012/01/on-box-and-deciding-not-to-be.html
Surreal rambles from CrazyTown - "like Kerouac, Plath and Dali had a love child and named it 3 grams of coke". Monday, 9 January 2012. On The Box and Deciding Not To Be. The box is back. Made of bone and sea-skin,. Its skull floating in Israeli sand and its. Stomach full of Peyote soldiers who nest. In tiny metal cocoons and chew on cordite clouds atop. Descaled mountains buried in copper skies. I hear them sometimes,. When the box is sleeping,. Whisper-shouting as they head off to war. It smells like th...
flaubert-poetrywithme.blogspot.com
Poetry with me ...: "Comets' Tails" A Wordling Whirl of Sundays #6- Wallace Stevens
http://flaubert-poetrywithme.blogspot.com/2011/05/comets-tails-wordling-whirl-of-sundays.html
Poetry with me . Life is the dancer and you are the dance.". 8212; Eckhart Tolle. Sunday, May 29, 2011. Comets' Tails" A Wordling Whirl of Sundays #6- Wallace Stevens. She doesn’t feel when she should,. Preferring to sit cross-legged against. Winds, watching fire striding strongly. On carefully constructed stone walls. She doesn’t cry when she needs to;. Instinctively she’s too afraid of. Turning into something dismal …. Like fallen leaves crushed underfoot. An inverse border of planets. Yes, well done!
henryclemmonspoet.blogspot.com
The UnderSide of Green: Cement Prophets
http://henryclemmonspoet.blogspot.com/2011/08/cement-prophets.html
The UnderSide of Green. Poetry, prose, and lyrics from Henry Clemmons. Tuesday, August 9, 2011. The crawling sun announces. Rusty scars blend with orange(ish) dawn streaks. Cement prophets proclaim torments scream. Black clouds close like stage curtains quickly. Tender moments swept away in Act I. Memories walk west and disappear. Henry, the opening, The crawling sun announces/a morning tender, sets up the action perfectly. Loved you use of the prompt! August 10, 2011 at 1:14 AM. I'm just a man. Started ...
thecaterpillaruprising.blogspot.com
The Caterpillar Uprising: Opal
http://thecaterpillaruprising.blogspot.com/2011/09/opal.html
Sunday, 18 September 2011. Sheep file the corridor. I yearn for passion. To be thrust upon them. That they may see. Written for wordle 22. At The Sunday Whirl. I am all about an invasion of passion to wake the sheep.that is for sure.smiles. 18 September 2011 at 12:12. I love this clever and very astute observation. Really well wordled. :-). 18 September 2011 at 12:36. I do think one CAN see limitless beauty in a single solitary opal. Nicely crafted wordle. 18 September 2011 at 12:44. What a great wordle!
panopticulated.blogspot.com
Panopticulated - writing when prompted to do so.: Fixed to the spot
http://panopticulated.blogspot.com/2012/02/fixed-to-spot.html
Out of my Ocean. My Name is ZING. Sunday, 26 February 2012. Fixed to the spot. Cumbersome words, black and unwieldy,. Sharp and sticky, they set like cement,. Hindering the fluid flow of my progress. I am aware of the faint murmur of my answer. As it bypasses my senses and emerges fully formed. Tumbling haphazardly from my lips like rain. And I want to run - full pelt - away from the intensity,. Away from the looming insanity, the spitting shadows,. But inertia gone, my body is reluctant to move. Powerfu...
onegirlonepen.blogspot.com
One girl, one pen: A Fairly Odd Woman
http://onegirlonepen.blogspot.com/2011/08/fairly-odd-woman.html
One girl, one pen. Sunday, August 14, 2011. A Fairly Odd Woman. She was born on a hardship morning. When the cold settled. And knuckles of the old ones. She grew like the wild grass. The way things grow when they are left alone. At one point she learned manners. They nearly destroyed her. For she learned to dance in the rain. To take midnight walks. To savor her own soul. She learned that every moment breathes. With the opportunity to invent who you are. So she succored and she treasured. A charming sent...
