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Sandra Beasley | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/poets-on-my-plate/sandra-beasley

Poets on my plate. Sandra Beasley (photo credit: Andrew Lightman). Sandra Beasley my oh my oh my! Try these poems on for size. Let Me Count the Waves. You must not skirt the issue wearing skirts. You must not duck the bullet using ducks. You must not face the music with your face. All can be measured by the standard of the capybara. Everyone is lesser than or greater than the capybara. Everything is taller or shorter than the capybara. Everything is mistaken for a Brazilian dance craze. You might make it.

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looking at poem | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/2014/02/07/looking-at-poem

Poets on my plate. Laquo; Seikou Yamaoka. 7 February 2014 by neil reid. Nose nose. mirror close. Smell poem’s breath. poem. Breathes mine. steam reveal,. Fingers paint. inhale, lay. Motionless. awake,. Poem inside, doesn’t sleep. Here, feel, dusty feet. Cat leaps onto bed. unfed, leaves. Some poems too, closing their eyes. Mother father, child. reflection bears. No fault. if you had a thousand eyes. That’s exactly who I’d be for you. Language contains this bowl. monarch. Wings see how they heel counter.

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William Stafford | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/poets-on-my-plate/william-stafford

Poets on my plate. 8221; In part he wrote,. You can’t tell when strange things with meaning will happen. …”Just be ready for what God sends.”. William Stafford’s words seem to express not just the posture of one man, but the sensibility of a profound listening. Indeed, it is easy to fall into the landscape with him, till at last it seems it is the thread of vision itself, the very earth in relationship, the dream of dreaming that has been speaking all along. Of his father, William Stafford. William Staff...

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seashells | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/2014/03/26/seashells

Poets on my plate. Laquo; looking at poem. 26 March 2014 by neil reid. Ears: bowls that fill without your hands, that left right mirror, generous. Sand: reasonable between your toes, don’t question obvious. Ribbons: scribbled in rock, gravel, dirt, feet, then too there’s wind making curls. Sapphire: mother’s color between fingertip thoughts, nearly sparks,. Ruby: the passion idea left behind while running from the flood). Eugene: she was almost there, clueless from either lighted door. Beside the road ne...

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neil reid | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/author/bearlyaudible

Poets on my plate. A second breath, words were poems first. Posts by neil reid:. A storm about four in the morning. Beside the road near Mt. Shasta. Red Wolf emerges from the woods. Nelson Mandela 1918 – 2013. How do we let you know. Let the oceans be milk. My Trees have Grown Hair: The Poetry of Autism. Found in a museum attic somewhere I don’t know. Transparency, a conversation. The rabbit and the moon. Too small to be a door. Not winter not snow. Untitled love poem number two. Older Posts ». Make your...

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Gastroliths | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/gastroliths

Poets on my plate. Small stones swallowed by a bird, reptile, or fish, to aid digestion in the gizzard). I asked the world what it meant. Too many answers to sort it out. I settle for less. Spirit broke. Past or present tense? I walked across town. But that was just a little north of the same. The rising sun. A mile is farther than it seems. Breath proceeds me by a step. I lived with the poor. Fished a lost spoon out of the trash. I had to give it up. Like creation, it took more than a day. One alone is ...

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Lucille Clifton | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/poets-on-my-plate/lucille-clifton

Poets on my plate. Lucille Clifton (June 27, 1936 – February 13, 2010). In memory and celebration of the life and work of a brilliant-wild-tender-fearless voice. Lucille will be missed. We give a full measure of thanks. Some biographical information is given by The Poetry Foundation. A sampling of her poetry can be read below. The mississippi river empties into the gulf. A dream of foxes. Homage to my hips. I am accused of tending to the past. My mama moved among the days. There is a girl inside. The rab...

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Poets on my plate | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/poets-on-my-plate

Poets on my plate. Poets on my plate. Sometimes you just gotta appreciate right out loud. Granted, here this bushel are those with whom I celebrate a personal resonance of phrase and word. So please if you so choose, something for you from this bowl? This page has the following sub pages. Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible. Image inspired poem (4). Patchwork Cento poem (4). RWP NaPoWriMo 2010 (31). A storm about four in the morning. Beside the road near Mt. Shasta. How do we let you know.

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Poet Soup | bearly audible

https://bearlyaudible.wordpress.com/poets-on-my-plate/poet-soup

Poets on my plate. Being a collection of whatever catches my eye and appreciation, and here, to share with you. A very. Personal sort of broth,. And what most pleases and probably, hopefully, teaches me as well. And likely those, like most of us, less formally published but none the less, appreciated. What a delightful light touch with words. And humor too! If Trees Were Cows. If trees were cows. And cows were trees…. Picnics would be held. Beneath shady herds …. Maybe this is what meditation does. Notif...