Suspended in this Digression from The season that has Supposedly arrived, I hang between snow And sun. Drawn to each one In its own way, I hover. Distracted, each Longing takes Me further from what Is right in front of me Until desire and longing Come together, Making now and Now and now all that […]
Leftover leaves Crunch softly underfoot As I wander to the creekside. There The sunshine warms my face, Amplifying what fleece had Already done. Buds beckon from nearby branches But I fear they Are destined to wither In a predicted freeze. All four seasons seem Rolled into a confused Ripple that waves goodbye, Jettisons across the
Covering the deep, Watery abyss Is a haunting, Menacing rock. It stays cold until The hottest days Of Summer. So if you want The warmth now, Dive and dive And dive again. Explore and delve The abyss. From above, It looks like a frightening Hole, but inside You will find an Opening beyond All imagining.
Well is a hole You dig to get water. Well is healthy (Especially after illness). Well is what happens To eyes filled with Sadness and Joy. Well, well, well. ~ spontaneously composed #micropoem by Stan Stewart ~ Copyright © 2016 by Stan Stewart and muz4now, inc. All Rights Reserved.
Tears So close to the edge They nestle against Nothing And the fabric of something that wants to work its way out Love Has come undone Willing the bliss of tears To become Tending Belt Up your midsection and Belt Out the blissfulness Short of tears You will love Fluidly Fabulously Finally ~ spontaneously composed by
Death, like a vigilant watchman seems everywhere these days. From its cold November gatehouse and portcullis, It disseminates a reign of sinister and sudden end. Without warning, it reveals the hidden underbelly of life which is also its polar opposition. Do not be fooled by the edges of light that seem to filter through the
Whatever I am right now, I have created out of the raw materials given to me. Every time I fall, I learn to walk and then fly. Every time I am silenced, I learn to speak and then sing. Every time I mourn, I find my smiles are truer and bigger the next time they
I didn’t see her fall the first time By the time I saw her lying there Two other passersby had Already stopped to give her aid I stopped my car with a jolt Pressed the four-way flashers And leapt into the street I could tell by the stress in the helpers’ voices The first fall had
Well, there he is again. Sure, I thought he was gone. I forgot that he is not here To haunt me; Only to bring the lesson Of my life back to my Heart Again and again. For the heart of the Boy on a bicycle Was surely broken. Yes, it’s been mended Again and again.
When there are rumblings — literal and metaphorical — around the world, it’s easy to be affected by them. That’s what happened to me. First, the earthquake in Nepal had been in the news for days. Friends have started to respond with music and other artforms. My friend, Cornflower, offers one beautiful example. I’m already
