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The Poeming Project | A poem a day for 365 daysA poem a day for 365 days
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A poem a day for 365 days
The Poeming Project | A poem a day for 365 days | Page 2
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A poem a day for 365 days. August 19, 2012. There is a vast conspiracy of. Blue skies. A plot among. Beauty, serenity and wind. Longing. For the late summers of someone. Else’s memory. We live blinded. In its glow and stinging with. Salt carefully chosen trees. Licking the sky, laughing at. Our inability to enjoy what. August 19, 2012. What do we build for? Laying bricks softly,. Running wires through walls. And under rivers to connect. And separate by generations. Will lives under bridges and inside.
Anti-post-unregionalism | The Poeming Project
https://poeming.wordpress.com/2012/08/19/anti-post-unregionalism
A poem a day for 365 days. August 19, 2012. Counties are built on arbitrary. Needs of arbitrary states in. Mood rivers cut valleys of. Incandescence out of bedrock,. Glacially responsive to the call. The topography of dissonance,. The politics of inconvenience,. Pounce on the inadequacies. Counties are built on the arteries,. But survive off the veins. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public).
Stealing Toys | The Poeming Project
https://poeming.wordpress.com/2012/08/19/stealing-toys
A poem a day for 365 days. August 19, 2012. Coughing on dust from 15 years. In the awkward silence of court. Rulings and empty storefronts,. Peering out into childhoods,. Foggy pasts of cookie batter. With skinned knees. Coughing. With weak knees wobbling. In concentric circles stalking. Who you were, staking out what. Bones we have left. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public). Laquo; Numbers Game.
Leather | The Poeming Project
https://poeming.wordpress.com/2012/10/15/leather
A poem a day for 365 days. October 15, 2012. There is skin we share, humans and animals. Planets and molecules, forces hardened. By looking at them under a microscope. Or wading into knee-high night water. You are the wings that fly me from bad dreams into good,. Crumpler of forgettable days and clarifier of. Sentences, maps and butter. Motionless, stretched out, is not leather’s. Natural state. It craves sinews and pumping. Blood and belonging, as souls do. As we do,. We are closer than splinters.
The Game | The Poeming Project
https://poeming.wordpress.com/2012/08/19/the-game
A poem a day for 365 days. August 19, 2012. We brag to ourselves. To be more,. Alone with the gall. To beat our own lies. Here we stand,. Wanting to make more. Wanting to give colors depth. Waiting for our own courage. Fear of not living up. To ourselves of missing. What’s most important. Of not setting minds. And making the needle point North. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Email (Address never made public).
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poem in a white ribbed vest | a novel for nanowrimo
About the header image. Poem in a white ribbed vest. A novel for nanowrimo. Poem in a white ribbed vest. Asymp; Leave a comment. National Poetry Writing Month. Poem in a white ribbed vest. A dead net cord. To his soul,. As a child denied,. In his fiery wake. 8216; is the first in a trilogy of poems about Sascha Zverev. The second is ‘ Adolescent. 8216; and the third ‘ Disarmed. Poem in a white ribbed vest. Asymp; 4 Comments. National Poetry Writing Month. Poem in a white ribbed vest. He’s not wasting time.
شعر در آبیست
Http:/ winglessangel.persianblog.ir. یک شب و یک سکه. مردی از کنار پنجره برای ماهی های سرخ شده توی روغن داغ زن. دست تکان می دهد. یک روز و اندکی نگاه. از دست مرد ها. زن ها مثل ماهی های رودخانه سرخ می خورند. برای خدا نهنگ سرخ می کند. و بچه هایش را قربانی می کند. وقتی که رنج می کشی. تا پسماند گنج را. مثل یک مورچه خوار از سوراخی به این گشادی بمکی. وضعیت قرمز قاعده ها را تغییر می دهد. وضعیت قرمز حتی می تواند جای خدا را عوض کند. و هیچ چیز اشکال ندارد. حتی اگر شکل مشکلات عوض شود. سرما و گرما فرق چندانی نمی کند.
Poemine - Poems and Poets world archive.
Movement - group - philosophy. Generation of 27 [3]. Modernism, Realism [60]. Surrealism, dadaism, absurdism [21]. Poem of the day. I was the height of a folio, my bed just. Backed on the bookcases sombre Babel,. Everything, Latin ashes, Greek dust. Jumbled together: novel, science, fable. Poet of the day. Was born on December 8, 1943, had 27 years and died on July 3, 1971. Poems were written mainly in English language. Dominant movement is other. Member of the day. No more info about this member.
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The Poeming Project | A poem a day for 365 days
A poem a day for 365 days. October 15, 2012. There is skin we share, humans and animals. Planets and molecules, forces hardened. By looking at them under a microscope. Or wading into knee-high night water. You are the wings that fly me from bad dreams into good,. Crumpler of forgettable days and clarifier of. Sentences, maps and butter. Motionless, stretched out, is not leather’s. Natural state. It craves sinews and pumping. Blood and belonging, as souls do. As we do,. We are closer than splinters. The n...
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Poeming Out | Sometimes truth is best explored in poetry
Sometimes truth is best explored in poetry. April 27, 2014. The Price of Hate. I wanted to do this. In my own time. To wait until I was ready. Until I had the answers. I’m still asking myself. I wanted to do this. When I felt secure. To wait until I’d talked. With those I owe. Deep levels of trust. To share face to face. Or at least Skype to Skype. I wanted to do this. After I’d told my family. To wait until the perfect moment. And I was ready for. I wanted to do this. When I knew how to explain. Makes t...
poeminha
28 de jun de 2015. Lilizinha Fofura e sua irmã Jojorela Partimpim com seus pijamas. Compartilhar com o Pinterest. 22 de jan de 2015. Fifi Décima: a costureira. Fiz a primeira boneca "Fifi" a pedido da querida e fashion amiga Anna Paula, da Chez Popi. Para criá-la me inspirei no desenho da estilosa Fifi Lapin, no desenho essencial da norueguesa Tone Finnanger e no desenho lúdico da francesa Sonia Lucano. A Fifi Décima é feita de muito carinho e de agradecimento por tudo que aprendi nestes anos com a Fabi&...
Bia Mel
Poeminhas da Bia Mel. Domingo, 30 de dezembro de 2012. Compartilhar com o Pinterest. Domingo, 15 de julho de 2012. Ter férias é legal. Férias são para descansar. E também para se brincar. Sem ter tarefa, faço o que quiser. E estou pronta para o que der e vier. Mesmo assim não desisto não. Leio diversos livros de montão. Quando para a escola eu voltar. Terei muitas histórias pra contar. E novas férias então. Para o outro ano ficarão. Compartilhar com o Pinterest. Sexta-feira, 27 de abril de 2012. Nesse ce...
pure feelings
Quarta-feira, 22 de julho de 2009. Os mistérios que rodeiam,. É um frio que da na alma. Ao mesmo tempo que fascina, assombra. Ao mesmo tempo que assusta,acalma. Viver sem saber se vai dar certo. Brincar sem se machucar. Sair sem saber que se vai voltar. Dormir sem saber se vai acordar. Muitos são os mistérios de nossas vidas. E quem disse que não a morte? Viver tanto e morrer der repente. Correr tanto e chegar atrasado. Quem disse que quem morre , descansa? Quem disse que não? Links para esta postagem.