Tag: Poetry

Caravan

desert mountains at sunrise

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…

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compilation of book covers

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Naw’leans Revisited

typewriter lit by neon

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

abstract of sunrise

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…

snowfall…

Equinox Series graphic

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

[Workshop] FOLDING WORDS: Landscape & Memory

Originally posted on Grayestone Lodge:
If you’ll be in the Lakes Region the first week of April, come write with me on 4 April 2019, 6:00-8:00 p.m. at the Meredith Community Center. We will explore the intersection of landscape and memory through creative writing…

Late One Icelandic Afternoon

Not the holiday destination but Halldór Laxness the snow-wrapped mental angst of Erlendur the misty procession of longboats off Akureyi the past, the past, always present in the now that never seems to get noticed. How many people have passed this storefront window carrying…

ALILA FEVER

colorized close up of water rippling over a rock

path between rice fields -lined with stone lanterns – bears the hotel’s new name

Evolution of the White-Throated Sparrow

close-up of snow layered with blue and yellow flames

She could have made a different choice—Her blood parts, that is, her bone parts, parts

With complicated names, syllables hugging–Packages of sound on the siding of language.

WHALESONG

sardines swimming in a spinning school

whalesong’s bow displacement weight longing ©2019 by Ron Scully Ron Scully is a professionally retired bookseller.His first two chapbooks,Listening for 13 Blackbirds, and Darlington Braves will be published in the spring 2019. He has given up on being the Yale Younger Poet and Wimbledon,…