Folded Word
Exploring the world, one voice at a time.
Tag: folded word
in the classroom…
accessible version for screen readers: in the classroom children make origami green frogs hop ©2019 by Dianne Moritz in celebration of International Haiku Poetry Day Dianne Moritz writes poems and picture books for children. Her haiku has appeared in My Frog Pond, The Haiku…
Behind the Scenes of Caravan
Every once in awhile, the #WrittenWordWednesday column publishes work from a writer who lives in a country with restricted PayPal access. Since PayPal is the only way we can pay royalties, we have had to come up with creative ways to compensate these writers…
Caravan
a tanka sequence first light of the eastern sun igniting the dust on my face: cowardice barefoot from land to land we search for pristine soil that satiates our souls bells tolling on the necks of camels this rhythm takes our deep silence to…
Naw’leans Revisited
It was a return trip, a bucket list type of thing. My memories had faded of this city, home of a favorite author, full of amazing architecture and wonderful food. A steamboat sung and paddled on the Mississippi, memories of the riverbank quickly replaced…
new moon, old ways
six minutes after dawn to the west of moonset in rolling Pennsylvania hills a full moon eclipses in the east where sunrise burns red setting daughter passes rising mother paths cross coming and going un-blue-moon drops from jet ink heights through blazing white light…
Fireweed
You never notice it until the middle of summer, when the magenta flower-spikes suddenly crowd every roadside and wasteland…once they have outgrown grass and nettles, and stand tall above the lesser whites and yellows of daisies, dandelions, clovers. In Britain we call it rosebay…
skunk trails…
accessible version for screen readers: skunk trails flash of lightning in the new year ©2019 by dt.haase A response to Folded Field Notes: Nocturnal dt.haase is a haiku poet, regular contributor to unFold, and a wanderer for wonder
Autumnal Shift
Flock of blackbirds moving over the house, silent as they almost always never are — heading south, one wing beat at a time. Leaving behind the September cries of the finches, (in French, no less — Vite! Vite! Vite! / Quick! Quick! Quick!); the…
snowfall…
accessible version for screen readers: snowfall — the white rabbit disappears ©2019 by dt.haase A response to Folded Field Notes : Silence dt.haase is a haiku poet, regular contributor to unFold, and a wanderer for wonder
