Sunday Whirl
Far From Home
I sit among the ruins
Crumbled, rotted, waste
A metallic taste in my mouth
As just before throwing up
The staccato beat of my heart
Crashes loudly in my ears
A dart is thrown
Seeking a target
I am in exile
I walk the desert
Lift the latch
Reveal the scar
The wind throws a billow of sand
Before me
Dirt devils give a petulant twist
Light fuses
Set fires seen in the distance
I accept the present without rebellion
The future is dubious
poetry, publishing, and mentoring
Standing Tall with Big Heart: Somatically, Mindfully, Creatively, Unceasingly
Poetry and Other Music
Waiting on Words
Art from the Collection of Deborah Barlow
South meets East: Poetry and Musings - words of the seasons
A view of things outside the studio
poetic ponderings...parenting...procrastination...
Poets Pub
ASTROLOGY
Hanmade. Where words find footing...
Poetry and More
Some days are cloudier than others. . .
"We're all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen."
art. biology. creativity. science. design. nature.
Newsletter from NY Arts Magazine
Taos Artist Organization
a place for poetry
annellannell 