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Amherst New Writers Club!: The Lament of the Swan Feeder
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Amherst New Writers Club! Friday, June 29, 2012. The Lament of the Swan Feeder. He is there everyday. At the edge of the ever lapping hungry waters. Out of his mouth comes a gurgle of words. 8220; Venir ici mon cher. 8221; he says. The old ladies cringe away from him. From his beard and mustache. As soft and tender as an eyelash. He never notices everything. His eyes milky white. And his shirt patched. He wears no belt, it would bind him he thinks. That is not allowed. His veteran gears need oiling.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Icarus
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Amherst New Writers Club! Friday, June 1, 2012. Looking at his father below with pride. 8220;Look Papa, I’m next to the sun”. Not noticing the hot globs of wax that fall. From the soft speckled goose feathers. Each droplet melting in the hot Greek sun. His father, “Come down child, lest you fall and die.”. The son smiles and shakes his head. And flaps his wings, just a bit closer. Icarus pinned against the brilliant azure sky. Like a giant bird. Below him rolling hills and vineyards. Grasping at the air.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Second post!
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Amherst New Writers Club! Friday, August 26, 2011. This is a different kind of prompt. It's shorter than the other one. He has a criminal record, but a minor one at least. It really isn't all that bad, but I do suppose that covering a car with sandwich condiments probably points towards some kind of mind disorder. August 26, 2011 at 8:49 AM. This prompt was suggested my Shannon Lambert. August 26, 2011 at 12:20 PM. I remember that one. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: November Morning
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Amherst New Writers Club! Tuesday, November 6, 2012. The sky is pale on this cold November morning,. Jack Frost has visited overnight and the grass is fringed with white. I walk past the neighbor’s car, which has been hidden under a white tarp. Like a blanket or a birthday present. Few cars drive on the road at 7:15 in the morning. I can see my breath and pretend to be smoking a pipe. Sending clouds of water vapor into the brittle air. And I am astonished and captivated by a single brown leaf,. There was...
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Pantoum
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Amherst New Writers Club! Monday, August 27, 2012. Pantoums are a fairly unknown form of poetry. It is one of my favorites. Learn more about them. Here is a pantoum I wrote about the beach:. Waves are crashing, snatching, latching. On a sandy beach lapping at our ankles. So many vacations,. And tourists with cameras around their neck. On a sandy beach lapping at our ankles. Single mothers escape work. And tourists with cameras around their necks. Lifeguards sit bored, making 30 dollars a day. I won't kno...
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Star of Track and Field
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Amherst New Writers Club! Monday, May 14, 2012. Star of Track and Field. Star of Track and Field. His dirty sneakers slam into puddles, slush and sun baked pavement. 5 miles a day. 1,825 miles a year. Every morning, every evening. Through rain, sleet, snow and hail, he runs. His apparel varies with the weather. He is a star of track and field. Hurdling every obstacle with ease. A fine specimen his coach says. A man with a round belly and a yellow visor. He could never keep up with his students.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: The Color Blind Bull
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Amherst New Writers Club! Tuesday, April 17, 2012. The Color Blind Bull. He doesn’t see everything in the world. Only part of it,. It is simpler for him. He sees the world through. Lewis Hine’s lens. His ailment goes unnoticed. All the crowd wants is a show. They shout and cheer until their throats are sore. What do they care anyway? It should be his palace; He should be comfortable there. He’s more of a Ferdinand. Would rather sit lying in the wildflowers,. Then be in the arena. The other bulls do.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Nasturtium Poem.
http://amherstawc.blogspot.com/2011/09/nasturtium-poem.html
Amherst New Writers Club! Wednesday, September 28, 2011. This is a poem I wrote about a Nasturtium flower in the garden of Emily Dickinson. A sea of green. Round boats floating still. Bright white veins fan out like spokes. Spokes on the circular wheel in a mill. One leaf the lowest is held down by dew. A sea of ships without a crew. Bees buzz merrily over the sea. Shaded by a majestic oak tree. The sun shines down the light is mellow. Next to the house whose bricks are yellow. I like the rhyming.
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Amherst New Writers Club!: Triplets on the mantle.
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Amherst New Writers Club! Monday, December 3, 2012. Triplets on the mantle. Red, brown, and green. With blackened ash coated. In front of the painting with the cracked. You shattered Prince Edward Island. When you were a baby. Now they sit, dejected, on the mantle. Like a losing politician. Burned out during a power outage. And now sit on the white brick. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. There was an error in this gadget. I love getting comments! So don't be shy, comment!
