NPM2009: Prompt 6

9 thoughts on “NPM2009: Prompt 6

  1. i am the white blanket

    i am the cold:
    the chill that comes with spring;
    the frost that covers you
    so that you lay quietly dormant,
    expectant for release,
    only to be told to wait, wait, wait;
    i hesitate,
    knowing that once the snow has melted,
    the ice removed,
    you will come into your own without me
    and our roles reversed — i will be gone,
    no longer necessary —
    and that, i cannot even begin to fathom
    beneath this white blanket
    we share together

    listen to the poem:

    Kevin Hodgsons last blog post..Your Alliteration Days

  2. Herbaceous borders tidily trimmed,
    Patterned pansies on ledges,
    More mowed down, ground skimmed,
    Clean cut green, cut hedges.

    Feathery lawns untailored untethered
    Tangles of knotgrass and wrackweed,
    Daisies, dandelion ragged leaf sprays,
    Tigergrass spills and phlox edges.

    There’s never a fill nor a scarcity
    Of pretensions or implicit pardons,
    So pick an eyeful of diversity
    From the treasures in our City gardens.

    Ken Allans last blog post..In Praise Of Plaudit

  3. Machineguntoy

    Automatic point
    at eye-line, the passageway
    to muddled brains
    between eyes that caught pellets
    when they tickled
    my belly, shoulder, thighs.
    Nail-bitten fingers twitch
    on triggered strokes
    before I am jerked.
    Last rounds
    Last rounds
    caressing an empty barrel.


    billimaries last blog post..April 5th – "Machineguntoy"

  4. The Far Mountains

    A mantle white has freshly fallen on the far mountains,
    But through the dirty window
    Crowd grimy cars on the pavement
    A crisp curtain of blue crests the peaks,
    And the highway’s rumbling trucks
    Fling their blackened mist
    High and low the horizon hops in a pulse line,
    Yet the angular rooftops
    Creep relentlessly across the plain
    Situated in marvelous splendor the scene unfolds,
    For the straight concrete barriers
    Feign creation in mocking assembly
    Toward the skies the summits soar,
    So progress itself is even outreached
    Revealing feeble hubris

    Rick Tanskis last blog post..National Poetry Month 2009 4.6 The Far Mountains

  5. Yesterday’s beyound infinity, tomorrows beyound today
    Remorse and tightened grips over what will never stay;
    All those fleeting memories and youth that was admired,
    Time comes with a vengence and is here but not desired.

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