Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

two weeks 'til solstice
your breath and pauses repeat
shortest day to come

never simply said
are words no one wants to hear
listen at own risk

November waving
goodbye by northwestern winds
December lurks close

Listening to Ray Charles

I imagine you drifting
a river’s bend.

Hanging time, I tap
my foot on my cedar deck.

I imagine you playing piano,
a blind river humming along.

sleeping to the rain
beats upon the dark window
a montage of peace

Thanks. Appreciate the words here. Old Man River speaks a different language to each age group, methinks.

There is a different movement that escapes from a river in November— water is neither quicker nor slower than June, and neighborhood boys still find their way down sand hills to its banks, untangling their tethers from clouds. They will run & pant, they will toss themselves to the ground, but in the...

Thanksgiving evening
in middle America
hot, sweet potatoes

quiet afternoon
no warmth and an all brown field
waiting for winter

saw wrote: ↑

October 26th, 2017, 9:39 am

it's difficult to use brevity in an ode....but, you did it...well done

Thanks...appreciate the words.

it snowed yesterday
and yet another winter
comes blowing in soon

empathy empty
in a mad world these long days
too few care to care

never can understand
how one comment causes hate,
spits out as venom

Good poem.

Her crescent sleeping
face in early morn

holier than any sun
rise