wish you were coming with me! it’s a grand old time at poetry group. seriously.
the poets speak and I just set them up:
Nothing against being taught about things, but finding your own way can be awfully wonderful.
The falling leaves / Drift by the window / The autumn leaves / All red and gold
I see your lips / The summer kisses / The sunburned hands / I used to hold.
Since you went away / The days grow long… / And soon I’ll hear / Old winter songs
But I miss you most of all / My darling, when autumn leaves start to fall…
autumn flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing to stay — Mary Oliver
just sitting in the quiet, feeling happy and grateful this morning for more things than i can say
aw, you know the change is gonna do me good (e. john, honky cat)
Help! I need somebody(‘s advice) Help! Not just anybody(‘s advice), HELP!!
the power of just a few words. that’s hard for me to achieve, i can’t stop talking shut up lori. read the damn poem.
smaller and smaller, the sea bashes everything / until voila: sand.
Igloria, Williams, Mandelstam, Wilbur, and Cooper had much more beautiful words to describe the solstice, so I’ll let them speak. Solstice. Yeah.
I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.
nobody says it better than mary oliver
mary oliver makes everything better. she ALWAYS does.
JewBu poetry and a farting aerobics instructor. I cover it all.
let me try to make you smile. come on…..
poetry about creativity – including murder?
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