thesearemypomes.blogspot.com

My Poetry

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I read Neruda with you. Worthy of your untamed mouth,. Holding the deep night's velvet,. Your hands, impossible. I woke with you. Draped, and then. Opened to cold solitude,. By dawn’s orange fingers. Your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings. My love, a transparent child,. And, li...

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My Poetry | thesearemypomes.blogspot.com Reviews

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Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying What I do is me: for that I came. G.M. Hopkins. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I read Neruda with you. Worthy of your untamed mouth,. Holding the deep night's velvet,. Your hands, impossible. I woke with you. Draped, and then. Opened to cold solitude,. By dawn’s orange fingers. Your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings. My love, a transparent child,. And, li...

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1 my poetry

2 not to touch

3 in a dream

4 your heavy eyes

5 my eyelids

6 an emptiness caressed

7 posted by

8 ruth elliott

9 no comments

10 email this

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My Poetry | thesearemypomes.blogspot.com Reviews

https://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I read Neruda with you. Worthy of your untamed mouth,. Holding the deep night's velvet,. Your hands, impossible. I woke with you. Draped, and then. Opened to cold solitude,. By dawn’s orange fingers. Your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings. My love, a transparent child,. And, li...

INTERNAL PAGES

thesearemypomes.blogspot.com

1

My Poetry: March 2012

http://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com/2012_03_01_archive.html

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Thursday, March 22, 2012. Lauren Zuniga, To the Oklahoma Lawmakers: a poem. I had just read a quote from Jon Anderson "The secret of poetry is cruelty", and then I saw this. Very powerful. I need to listen to more of her work. If only those in power would listen. Thursday, March 22, 2012.

2

My Poetry: buy your own flowers

http://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com/2013/02/buy-your-own-flowers.html

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Wednesday, February 06, 2013. Buy your own flowers. And when you think things won’t get worse,. That things have turned a corner,. And while it’s not rosy,. At least it’s not hell anymore,. And you dare to hope that there could be a future. That night when you’d expect to be in bed. You’re tired, and ...

3

My Poetry: July 2012

http://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com/2012_07_01_archive.html

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Saturday, July 28, 2012. Because of your hands. Because I looked at them. And not your face, at. The floor, my feet, but mostly at. I saw the line suggesting. A creative lover,. A clever mind,. Fertile imagination, and. The mound by your thumb. I read the meaning of your finger shapes. Long and articulate,.

4

My Poetry: May 2014

http://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com/2014_05_01_archive.html

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Thursday, May 08, 2014. My coffee has cooled from the breeze that also makes the willow wisps sway and dance. The very first tiny lilac flower has opened, much like a sleepy child awakening from a nap on a picnic blanket on a warm day. I would sit in this moment, and I never need another thing.

5

My Poetry: June 2015

http://thesearemypomes.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Sunday, June 07, 2015. Pretending, I arrange. Pillows, I arrange and. You would fill, your. Breath's rhythm, your. By my shoulder,. In my hair, the. Movement on my hip of. A single finger tracing. I close my eyes,. Lean into you,. Sunday, June 07, 2015. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). I take so many pictures.

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My Poetry

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying "What I do is me: for that I came." G.M. Hopkins. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I read Neruda with you. Worthy of your untamed mouth,. Holding the deep night's velvet,. Your hands, impossible. I woke with you. Draped, and then. Opened to cold solitude,. By dawn’s orange fingers. Your touch fleeing on chaste butterfly wings. My love, a transparent child,. And, li...

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