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Netpoem | My Poems For Our TimeMy Poems For Our Time (by Lois Kackley)
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My Poems For Our Time (by Lois Kackley)
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Netpoem | My Poems For Our Time | netpoem.wordpress.com Reviews
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My Poems For Our Time (by Lois Kackley)
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Subjectivity | Netpoem
https://netpoem.wordpress.com/2009/07/22/subjectivity
Cooperation is not of today. Thought, the captive of dismay,. Rendered an easy bent reed. Prevailing winds decide my course. Wait to debate – for a thoughtful force. My reason was clear on a recent day. None relate to what I say. Can’t reckon or consider,. Gone the will to deliberate. There’ll be a better day for something’s-at-stake. Now buried in blue heaven. Say, What if God were lost in emotion. When called upon to judge someone. Does he, too, fail to cerebrate. When feelings prevent him evaluate?
For Cole | Netpoem
https://netpoem.wordpress.com/2009/10/16/for-cole
Do you and I go to cursing randomness. The sight of willing hearts and decorous smiles. Proceeding through the years to mirror souls in trials. Beginning like the play of pups, intense. As from their little eggs birds sing contentedness. The young begin and end their day complete. Open and generous in mind and spirit. Impediments are only pebbles, these brave toddling edifices. Of he who goes into the Night of Giants. Bold with language, legs and bright contempts. October 16, 2009. Enter your comment here.
I Saw My Spirit | Netpoem
https://netpoem.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/i-saw-my-spirit
I Saw My Spirit. I saw my spirit in the dawn, its silver. There then there – on a sparrow wing. Shouting Not flying so much as flexing. Its power to divide the air Slicing. I saw my soul where tiny feet invaginate. Confess under duress of extended throat. Its force – its mass times vigor. I see its aim in a forgotten eye. On a scene that is spread like life –. Sunrise on a feather. What news you bring on a beam! A shining bay stretches out behind –. July 13, 2009. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.
October | 2009 | Netpoem
https://netpoem.wordpress.com/2009/10
Do you and I go to cursing randomness. The sight of willing hearts and decorous smiles. Proceeding through the years to mirror souls in trials. Beginning like the play of pups, intense. As from their little eggs birds sing contentedness. The young begin and end their day complete. Open and generous in mind and spirit. Impediments are only pebbles, these brave toddling edifices. Of he who goes into the Night of Giants. Bold with language, legs and bright contempts. October 16, 2009. To Hide or Not.
To Hide or Not | Netpoem
https://netpoem.wordpress.com/2009/10/13/to-hide-or-not
To Hide or Not. Hinge on emotion is insecure. If another were to know, Oh, No. Keep your private secret. Bolt the door on honest and pure. But hide from others, deceive your. What’s hid from self has most control. Without – you are aware. Fantasies rule like rumor. Who’s to hear, someone must hear. Telling secrets means they aren’t. Swings on poems and friends. Trust is a hammock somewhere. P’haps it’s best to be alone. Can’t say what I don’t see. Reluctance, refusal, or aversion. October 13, 2009.
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Numerically | Daily Dash 1789
https://dailydash1789.wordpress.com/numerically
1,789 Poems to take your breath away with The Dashes to help you catch it. Poems to which I respond in this blog are listed numerically in. The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Edited by R.W. Franklin. 1998. A Charm invests a face #430. A little Dog that wags his tail #1236. A single Screw of Flesh #293. A Pit – but Heaven over it – #508. A Shady friend – for Torrid days – #306. A little boat adrift! An awful Tempest mashed the air – #224. As children bid the Guest “Good night” #127. Dying in the night #222.
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Netpoem | My Poems For Our Time
Do you and I go to cursing randomness. The sight of willing hearts and decorous smiles. Proceeding through the years to mirror souls in trials. Beginning like the play of pups, intense. As from their little eggs birds sing contentedness. The young begin and end their day complete. Open and generous in mind and spirit. Impediments are only pebbles, these brave toddling edifices. Of he who goes into the Night of Giants. Bold with language, legs and bright contempts. October 16, 2009. To Hide or Not. Will b...
netpoemsvoicesnet.wordpress.com
Net-Poems-Voices-Net | At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet. Plato (c.427 – 347 BC)
At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet. Plato (c.427 – 347 BC). October 25, 2012. Blog at WordPress.com.
poesias na Net
E volta sempre a infância. Com suas íntimas, fundas amarguras. Por que não esquecer. E somente lembrar o que foi suave. Ao nosso coração de seis anos? Ficou naquele quarto em desordem,. Nos soluços de nossa mãe. Junto ao leito onde arqueja uma criança;. Nos sobrecenhos de nosso pai. Examinando o termomêtro: a febre subiu;. E no beijo de despedida à irmãzinha. À hora mais fria da madrugada. Ficou naqueles longos dias iguais,. A olhar o rio no quintal horas inteiras,. Em luta sempre contra as ventanias!
STRATO
