I am a poet, or: A poem

Poetry Partners #35 'I am a poem', a poem by paeansunplugged of 'paeansunpluggedblog' I am a poem, read me syllable by syllable let the vowels roll around your tongue at will immerse yourself in the free flow of rhythm undulating whimsically in its own rhyme the meter; sometimes measured. But oft not! Read me at… Continue reading I am a poet, or: A poem

She was him, or: He was her

Poetry Partners #29 A poem by Yasmin of 'yaskhan' She was him He was her They were one They were free She had eyes that knew His heart’s glow A smile that filled the space When spring made its way to their eyes In the zephyr’s abracadabra All the places they were at a loss… Continue reading She was him, or: He was her

Despite, or: Because of confusion

My 2nd Palindrome poem Why is poetry magical Written absorbingly such that Wonder comes forth -BAM- We are utterly consumed Self-indulgently reading while Questioning wordsmiths leaves Broad-mindedness unchecked Poets manipulate thoughts Creativity thriving inspiring Despite that ~ -Confusion- ~ That despite Inspiring thriving creativity Thoughts manipulate poets Unchecked broad-mindedness Leaves wordsmiths questioning While reading self-indulgently… Continue reading Despite, or: Because of confusion

Transfer, or: Orientation

A 'Found Poem' Based on Peter Schneider's poem 'Lost in Plain Sight' I wake up, waiting, wanting to speak my mind, I think. Why do I have this empty cup clenched in my right hand? To fill in with... name, date? I greet my neighbor (isn't her name Susan?) with trivia, punch line. She smiles… Continue reading Transfer, or: Orientation

Am, Are, or: Always

no doors in walls to Keep out fear just: Look and See, but no walls there... once structures, now Convulsing lines there's Is, there's Was, less timeless rhymes no what, no I, but only Am Am Flail for textures; Whisper, "damn..." unbearable, Am's Feels Are Galled Walled in, Crawling, no space at all! nouns swiftly… Continue reading Am, Are, or: Always

Mare, or: Reflection

I wade in; I float near Not myself- who's that there? Can't be me; won't free me Else, I'd drift out to see No windows- no wind blows Stale thoughts heave in death throes This place's strange faces Fill the spaces tightly Swift pacing, mind racing Dreams fleeted yet chasing Depleted, now seated, Truth meted… Continue reading Mare, or: Reflection