Day five.
early wonder purple sprouts
sparkled gems of glass eclipsed like
little marvels; sunrise bumblebees
a hollow crown atop the ruby queen.
the blue-curled painted mountain is
a fringed mix of bull's blood,
mammoth melting sugar snow,
and acres, just acres of gold
We half long for nighttime.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Paint Poem
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
-
Day Nineteen In our village by the mountain, there lived A man p eople called The Wrestler , It was long ago, when my dad was a kid. He - ...
-
So, two weeks in and I'm somewhat surprised to find myself sticking at this poetry malarkey. In fact I'm enjoying it very much. To...
-
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
No comments:
Post a Comment