Ends In a downpour Of water And words Sun Hits Warm wet dirt Vapors rise Grass glistens Scents Permeate Grapes swell Figs burst Chimneys Smoke Chill Creeps Skin crawls Light glows
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peak summit apex midway afloat on a placid lake I want to stop time savor the warmth a bite of overripe cantaloupe a whiff of fresh basil a crush of black pepper on prosciutto
Walking Under Around Through And among The Stars. P.S. This is interactive poetry: Whoever figures out what the heck I’m writing about wins a pizza dinner here with us. Message Kerry on the Forum with your answer. Staff and family of barganews.com, its affiliates and subsidiaries, are ineligible.
Firm ripe red globes of pebbled flesh Hanging hidden beneath and between Toothed leaves In dank dirt On shadow washed banks That with a feather light fingertip touch fall Weightless into my palm Then the taste of sweet perfume
There is an alarm clock going off somewhere Beep beep beep beep beep beep But then it stops And then it goes off again Is it in one of the apartments below Beep beep beep beep beep beep Piercing urgent insistent Is there a warning buzzer on some machine here Did I misset the clock on the stove again Is...
A shy breeze breathes A heady mix of Penetrating perfume Acacia in bloom Heavy clusters of Delicate white petals Its lady finger leaves Lightly tracing shadows Intoxicating elderflower’s lace antimacassar Searching for a smooth sofa shoulder to lie on Standing firm full figs Not yet hanging soft Ever...
One voice shatters The dark silence Then another And another I saw it first No, I saw it No, it was me over here, I saw it Then all at once The joyous cacophony builds To a crescendo I close the window And slip back between warm sheets Day breaks
Streams shivering. Sap rising. Stems shooting Light green filigree. Soft fur buds On pussy willow Sprouting In high grass Sweating. Tall figures Of Hot pungent Heather Hovering. Banks blanketed in periwinkle. With flushed cheeks Spring is coming.
Lashed. Like a gale, And then a Lull. Whipped. A roller coaster, Chugging up one side, Careening down the other, A sharp left turn, And stop. Thrashed. One miserable day, Dawns into a brilliant Blue next. Breathtaken. Schizoid Manic Depressive Bipolar That is February.
The Serchio River Valley Is the central corridor Of a giant roofless ruin. Mountain spurs Are perpendicular walls. Valleys are rooms. Vigilant, the village outposts Perch on the edges of the rubble. Cantilevered on the mountainsides Is a labyrinth Of gently winding roads, From which I watch spring Climb...
Embrace the unknown Let go of routine Let yourself be Whisked away By the random Abandon yourself To opportunity Chance Kismet The Zen Of the here And now Respond In a flash Come In an instant
Domani, Venerdì 10 febbraio, nel Salone delle feste del Comune di Borgo a Mozzano si terrà il...
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