Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the morning weeps grey
splashing drops spilling circles
into puddled mud

the words are replaceable
the mind not erasable
keep the thought flow moving
right along
By writing what you're feeling
it keeps your mind from reeling
and emotions grooving
like a song.

heart's journal pages
so fragile, brittle, yellowed
lost love's pressed roses

memory's camera
time's captured remembrances
flash frozen fragments

fleeting fragrances
remind, catch me unaware
deceiving my heart

Very nice! And I don't hear Riverdance, unless it is the ladies crooning in gaelic...I hear celtic voices raised in harmony...

thanks for the ideas; I think I'm going with splay.

Do not erase?

i am selfish and demanding
i want the full package
to remember, to hold
in my calloused, aging hands

Those are the lines that stuck with me and made me cry today...

Cecil - (I'm hoping that this is the right name. Haven't figured all that out yet)

Your poem so inspired me. The title, punctuation, just kept running through my mind until I had to write about it as well. Kudos to you for a loving sensual write.

Jen

Wild and unkempt, the field croons to me,
a luring siren's call beseeching
to play tag with the wind,
sprinting across the uneven surface
and splay full-length, face-down
upon her mossy breast.
I gluttonously drink gulps of her scent,
fecund and rich and savory
enough to satisfy my appetite.
Then ...

Ode to the piece "punctuation" which kept going round and round in my mind until this finally popped out. Not what I was wanting out of it - so if you have ideas ... please express. :)

tears punctuate me
dividing thoughts and minds
commas that space out
the words being expressed

A long pause ...

Thank you - and yes...that is why I'm writing now again. Trying anyway.

I know I'm jumping in unasked, but this is a question that I've been pondering...so here are my two cents.

I want a man who sees me - the real one under the layers and veneers that we present to the world - and loves me wholeheartedly anyway. And allows me to see his flaws and faults as well, so ...

The images here are absolutely lovely...especially the guitar.

as we -
more than alone
giving pieces of selves,
but is there anything left of
just me

cinquain chains

Silent Talking
I say.
You see lips move,
hear my voice rise and fall,
understand nothing except that
I spoke.

Listen.
My heart screams out
in anguish with wants, needs.
Whispers quietly to your soul,
"Please hear."

Walls built
from bricks of hurt
and salty-tears mortar
are ...

I agree. Very vivid image and feel to this.