Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 17 April 2012 @ 12:50 PM
klimt was waiting inside my honda
the candy wrapper night you walked
me from your paint box to the stars,
yes the night your eyes caught fire
and melted to pots of butterscotch
that sank into my heart on wings.
But back to Klimt…
🙂
all the way home he kept pulling songs
and caramel pies from the secret lining
in the top of his old gold fishing hat,
lighting candles the color of sunset
and dabbing my hair with moonshine
he’d made himself from antique lace.
these days, drifting drunk on poems
and new violins, I hear the patter of
leaves breathing in this backyard,
the alto chatter of morning doves
planning baby showers and i wonder
if you’ve found your mountain yet.
a little something in maple fudge for all the wandering pub poets.
Oh… and edit: after 8 comments, forgot to say that’s Klimt’s “Tree Of Life” cropped. The whole painting is actually…
xoxoxooxo
Flash Fiction 55, Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 12 April 2012 @ 5:55 PM
two teeny flying bugs
are square dancing
on my laptop screen
here this afternoon.
The smaller gnat
must be the girl.
She’s quite the
jaunty jumper,
making sure to
keep her feet
always within
the pixels, like
a child avoiding
sidewalk cracks.
The male is off
my screen now
— gone to fetch
beer I imagine.
🙂
This is for The G-Man, fiction in 55 words.
square dance photo belongs to Jim Osborne, square dance caller.
Photography, Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 10 April 2012 @ 5:55 AM
fluffy butt
thinks she
owns this
house and
everything
in it, and
truth be told
— she most
likely does.
~~ end of poem
Somebody cute has a new napping spot — atop the placemats in the dining room.
She woke in curiosity as I took these pics, but soon went back to slumber.
Happy dVerse Poetry Open Link Tuesday!
xoxooxox
Just Good Stuff | Posted by Jannie on 6 April 2012 @ 12:51 PM
Happy Easter, y’all.
xooxoxoxxoxoxo
P.S. I remember now I replaced the tray on the high chair, but I forget why.
tie your poems with spider silk
to the shoulders of yellow tulips
and wait for your socks to sing.
say your favorite word ten times
fast while spinning on a piano stool
that sailed on a tall ship from rome.
dance on stained-glass sidewalks
where painters are selling secrets
vangoghed with ribbons of rain.
sleep between sheets of music
on a pillow of mountain forest
under blankets of gypsy moon.
wake to the sound of silence
and pour it on the good things
already dangling around you.
a poem for dVerse Poetry Open Link Tuesday, week 38.
whoooooohoooooooooooooooooooo.
Angel’s the parakeet with the “eyelashes” and darker blue throat.
Timmy’s the singer.
Well, they both sing, but he usually jumps up to the microphone first and loudest.
xoxoxoxoxoxoox
