On Drinking

How

are you

my

steaming mug

of coffee,

my

hot-day

lemonade,

and my

whiskey

on the rocks?

_______________________

Poems you might love:

Safe

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XVII

Space for Expression

Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XII

Music is a formed space

and lyrics, the beaten door,

when I hear a song played

I’m thrown onto its floor.

And, without authority,

I’m made to recall,

where I was and what I felt

when I first was made to fall.

Thrown back into the room

where my olden thoughts were sketched,

turned about by dancing memories,

I fell forward and I retched.

Movement

With a thousand poems,

I try to tell you

how I feel about you,

but, with every failed lyric,

it’s clearer that

my passion

can only be expressed

with movement.

Writing Cursive

As an ink pen,

you express yourself

in graceful, flowing strokes,

and I, your parchment,

would let you practice

your cursive

until you mastered

every letter.

(And, between letters,

I lament

that the alphabet

has only 26.)

Ode to Joy

It seems

contrary to my faculty

to craft poetry

that uplifts

a reader,

rather than

pulling her

deeper into

introspection;

but it is likely

that I’m simply

overthinking it.

So, I’ve created a poem

to raise the reader

to heights of joy:

 

smooth coffee

dogs

radiant sunsets

good music

snow days

chocolate

captivating books

love notes

sandy beaches

inside jokes

new shoes

budding flowers

 

What simple things bring you joy?