Mono no aware

Photograph taken by Adam Romanowicz

she is a promise in a transient grave
bursting into life from the cocoon
of her language,
hung in tufts of chalk dust alphabets
voiced 

through the letting go of time
and the cleaving of the wind
I wait to drag her death into my mouth
and for the bridge 

of her rolling tongue
to meet me in this burial ground
somei yoshino
somei yoshino watches
as Newtons two thumbs pull
her poetry towards me
Mono no aware

I wait
for her lexicon to take
its first and only breath

offered as part of One Stop Poetry’s Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge. 

Do you want to know a secret?

Even the foothills are poised to be

perfectly formed small wonders

(deep retreats) as if

mountains had been reborn

into lively districts

twisted fists, ancient rivets

Yew Tree, Dartington Gardens

Like fat matted
dreadlocks of time tumbling
down the shoulders
of history sat, slunk
into the wet earth
bulbous, serene
twisted fists, ancient rivets
covered
by my warm palms
forearms pulling
the weight
of me
up
boots scuffed, slipping
on the lichen
fingers hooked between
knots of old memories
a
sprawled
pause
as I centre my balance
wind persuading the leaves to pray
singing ambient arias
and I
in abstract awe
as the ballast of my body clings
to a thousand years of nature
sat, slunk
into the wet earth
bulbous, serene



offered as part of One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday

James Rosenquist

 

 

she fell into the frame
her story clotting on the canvas
the passing
thoughts of strangers
clawed across her gauge
itching her id
raiding
her pantry abstract
archivists
re-arrange

offered as part of One Stop Poetry's Friday Poetically

driftwood ribs

When there is no confluence

When the dry

Riverbed of my mind

Cannot

Connect

I walk my thoughts

Into the ocean

I give my context

To the tide

I give

My driftwood ribs

Back to Adam

Until I am nothing

And everything

Connected

Inspired by Rob Hanson's photograph "Endless Pier Summer

Offered as part of One Shot Poetry's One Shoot Sunday