poetryhawk.blogspot.com

Poetry Hawk

Monday, August 4, 2014. Gotcha some bullheads, I see. Pulled us into dock, bullheads carpeted. Our boat's floor, fins surrounded our feet. When they're biting, nothin's. More fun than pulling 'em in. Ready to pull anchor, the first strikes. Our reels spun and rods. Tipped as catfish dipped for the deep. My dad's excitement nearly swallowed. The stump of his partly chewed cigar. Discarding my Hemingway novel,. I leaned into grace under pressure. To land fish after defenseless fish. I'll smoke the suckers.

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Poetry Hawk | poetryhawk.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, August 4, 2014. Gotcha some bullheads, I see. Pulled us into dock, bullheads carpeted. Our boat's floor, fins surrounded our feet. When they're biting, nothin's. More fun than pulling 'em in. Ready to pull anchor, the first strikes. Our reels spun and rods. Tipped as catfish dipped for the deep. My dad's excitement nearly swallowed. The stump of his partly chewed cigar. Discarding my Hemingway novel,. I leaned into grace under pressure. To land fish after defenseless fish. I'll smoke the suckers.

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1 poetry hawk

2 because we could

3 stunned us

4 we have

5 visioned minnows

6 posted by

7 rosanne osborne

8 1 comment

9 email this

10 blogthis

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Poetry Hawk | poetryhawk.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poetryhawk.blogspot.com

Monday, August 4, 2014. Gotcha some bullheads, I see. Pulled us into dock, bullheads carpeted. Our boat's floor, fins surrounded our feet. When they're biting, nothin's. More fun than pulling 'em in. Ready to pull anchor, the first strikes. Our reels spun and rods. Tipped as catfish dipped for the deep. My dad's excitement nearly swallowed. The stump of his partly chewed cigar. Discarding my Hemingway novel,. I leaned into grace under pressure. To land fish after defenseless fish. I'll smoke the suckers.

INTERNAL PAGES

poetryhawk.blogspot.com

1

Poetry Hawk: May 2014

http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2014_05_01_archive.html

Saturday, May 3, 2014. Red Eyes and All That. The words of my poem. Spilled from my very own blood,. Captured the fleet feet. Of my lamb’s innocence,. Yet the judge was only Abel to see. The basket of lentils. Sorted in iambics, parsed. In quatrains that grained. The wilder growth. Cain I. Care for darkened lessons. Of acceptance and rejection? No, my active voice. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Red Eyes and All That. View my complete profile. Simple theme. Theme images by luoman.

2

Poetry Hawk: Who Planted Those Grapes?

http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2014/04/who-planted-those-grapes.html

Tuesday, April 15, 2014. Who Planted Those Grapes? Clipping loaded stems from the bunch, tasting. Succulent globes, skins stretched on juiced. Flesh, I live only in the moment. Whose hands placed. The cuttings into the moist earth, tended and watered. Virgin plants, shepherded creeping tendrils into fruition? Opening the new jar of olives, I ponder the trees. In a sandy land far removed from the verdant green. Of my Louisiana landscape. Between hands that open and hands that plant,. Havarti in the Highest.

3

Poetry Hawk: May 2012

http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2012_05_01_archive.html

Thursday, May 31, 2012. The tear in the shirt. In its callused hand. Frayed like an unraveling. Rope, the shirt. The losses and gains. Of a life that's grappled. That teeter on whether. Or not. The grubbing of grain. From resisting land,. That plots its own plane. Wednesday, May 30, 2012. The rose reached for life. In the landfill of corrosion,. Tuesday, May 29, 2012. Refining shadows was his delight. In life. Marking their boundaries,. Polishing their angles, he clarified. The hard-core, face-on reality.

4

Poetry Hawk: Westie Lament

http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2014/06/westie-lament.html

Tuesday, June 10, 2014. Please tell me that it doesn't matter. That my ear is bent, leaning. Like a limb broken from its tree,. An envelope permanently closed. I know you chose me, rescued. Me when my parents could no longer. Care for me. You thought I looked. Like the Westie you'd always imagined. I'm still the same boy, just slightly. Used, a bit arthritic, maybe too fat. And sure, my face is usually stained. From nosing the scent of squirrels. I feel I must rid from your yard. View my complete profile.

5

Poetry Hawk: August 2014

http://poetryhawk.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html

Monday, August 4, 2014. Gotcha some bullheads, I see. Pulled us into dock, bullheads carpeted. Our boat's floor, fins surrounded our feet. When they're biting, nothin's. More fun than pulling 'em in. Ready to pull anchor, the first strikes. Our reels spun and rods. Tipped as catfish dipped for the deep. My dad's excitement nearly swallowed. The stump of his partly chewed cigar. Discarding my Hemingway novel,. I leaned into grace under pressure. To land fish after defenseless fish. I'll smoke the suckers.

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Top 10 Laundry Poems -

http://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2014/07/24/top-laundry-poems-giveaway

8220;Fine Living”. A Poem a Day with Every Day Poems. Poetry Newsletter – Free! Top 10 Poetic Picks. T S Poetry Press. A Book of Beginnings. Become a Better Writer. Fiction Posts & Prompts. Poets and Writers Toolkit. Eating and Drinking Poems. Poem on Your Pillow Day. Poetry at Work Day. Random Acts of Poetry Day. Take Your Poet to Work Day. Image-ine: Poety & Art. Poetry Units for Teachers. Poets & Poems. Top 10 Laundry Poems. For many of us, laundry is an inescapable consequence of wearing clothes.

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Monday, August 4, 2014. Gotcha some bullheads, I see. Pulled us into dock, bullheads carpeted. Our boat's floor, fins surrounded our feet. When they're biting, nothin's. More fun than pulling 'em in. Ready to pull anchor, the first strikes. Our reels spun and rods. Tipped as catfish dipped for the deep. My dad's excitement nearly swallowed. The stump of his partly chewed cigar. Discarding my Hemingway novel,. I leaned into grace under pressure. To land fish after defenseless fish. I'll smoke the suckers.

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