Like colored Easter eggs placed in their nest
These houses built about the hills
Are perfect paintings of an inner best
We cannot see except for these bright frills.
We trust that thrills felt deeper do exist
And there’s no reason not to think they do.
Beneath the painted lips are hearts. When kissed
They warm projecting peace through winters, too.
Linked to Saturday’s Image Write #7 hosted by Bekkie Sanchez featuring a photograph by Gary Lo.
We are perspectives on what’s real.
We’re the ones who see it.
Anticipating what we’ll feel
While wintery fears conceal it.
Although it isn’t spring here yet,
Our fresh, green dreams will grow
And should despair let us forget–
Bright blooms somewhere will show.
Linked to dVerse Quadrille hosted by Kim from Writing in North Norfolk using “spring” as a prompt.
Photo: “Bright Blooms” by the author at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
The house I’m building in my head
Is either very small
Or big so it excludes no one,
An ark that holds us all.
But since I don’t know everything
And others would build, too,
That fancy house would have to be
Quite small–just what will do.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Sara McNulty with the prompt “DIY building”.
Photo by the author, “All of us fish in one pond”
I take for granted the bright Moon
The way I do the Sun’s clear day
And should I find that someday soon
The Moon gets lost or towed away
Or popped above like a balloon,
Would I regret it couldn’t stay?
Linked to Saturday’s Image Write #5.
Image prompt by korinrochelle.
We’ve thrown so many things away
And lost so many, too,
But this one’s hanging on the wall
Reminding us when she was small
And what she used to do.
She drew a smiling figure
With ears and big, orange eyes.
With care she knew that she could dance
And lovers knew fulfilled romance.
We watched with proud surprise.
Linked to dVerse Poetics One Momento hosted by Mish.
Photo by the author
Some days my happy giggles don’t
Do what I want them to.
They hide because I’m feeling sad.
They hide because I’m being bad.
They hide because you think I might
Be someone who is not quite right.
That’s why we hide from you.
The “I” and “you” are imaginary. I just like speaking in the first person. One day I might collect these and call them “Confessional Poetry of Imaginary People”.
Linked to dVerse Quadrille #27 hosted by De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) making use of the word “giggle”.
Photograph: “Birds Who Think I’m Quite Alright To Be Around” by the author.
This was a field not long ago.
Patterned houses face a street
With quarter-acre lawns or so
And landscaped trees make it complete.
The mailman stops at every home.
You’ll need a car to get somewhere.
Like stars out there we shine alone
In tiny castles all our own
But love will find friends waiting there.
Linked to dVerse Poetics – suburb poetry hosted by Oloriel.