Karma – an #improv #poem
A spontaneous (improvised, unedited) poem by Stan Stewart: “Karma”.
poem
New Movement – an #improv #poem
“New Movement” – an improvised (spontaneously created, unedited) poem by Stan Stewart.
Portland poem – Filtered Light
“Portland poem” – by Stan Stewart and written on the occasion of a proposal.
Cedar Ridge Road – an #improv #poem
“Cedar Ridge Road” – an improvised (spontaneous, unedited) poem by Stan Stewart
Winter Trees – an #improv #poem
I am enchantedby the tops of winter trees. With their twistsand tendrils,silhouettesand snares,they mezmerize my gaze. Each time my eyes areintertwined with theirmagical state,I am struckby the aweof it all. Then, somewherein the back of my mind,I find the realizationthat this is not themore cherished stateof trees by my fellowhuman beings. And I know thatin
This Grief – an #improv #poem
“This Grief” – a spontaneous poem by Stan Stewart. People’s inhumanity to each other is baffling, so the poet explores the resulting grief.
New Every Morning – an #improv #poem
Waking without an alarmand waking without alarmis like a simple gift. When each morningis a drive to workfrom a drive to survive, questionsrun simplicityout the door. My thoughts areof great things withgigantic magnitudes too many times toname. Today wasdifferent. This morning came without fanfare.Eyes flickered openof their own accord and in their own, sweettime. Though
Clouds – an #improv #poem – with original photos
Eyes closed; Just a brief moment. Open: now there are wispy bits where only blue had been. Seconds later, they turn themselves into frothing bits of colorlessness, forming almost everywhere that I can see in that skyward direction. I start to walk towards home, finding grey had taken over those unassuming clouds. The air cools
Clouds – an #improv #poem – with original photos Read More »
Birthday Bonfire – an #improv #poem
I dream of rituals long since passed To which we brought old photos or wrote our deepest fears. In some tiny blaze or gigantic bonfire we would burn these bits of tattered paper. I guess that we imagined this burning could make the pain disappear or the fear dissipate. Though this imagining seems perfectly normal,