Friday, October 26, 2012

First Cup—Poetry Friday

What: is a poem?

An explosion in a silent movie,
muted, stretching to say more
than can be said
visually; incomplete missing
something but some how saying

A rose from which the petals
have fallen, on the ground,
somehow connected
though fallen—still in
the picture;

A silent long and wordless sigh
reaching deeper than

An acute angel of vision
seeing less but differently
angled into insight, however
personal and limited and more

A word that stands alone
calling attention to its
sound, discrete and personal
singing its own song for itself
and others with ears to

an image starkly lighted
yet private
inviting to those brave enough
to hear or see or

(a scream on the edge
Of a bridge—
the sky orange)


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