unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com

Unsung Rhapsody

Monday, January 11, 2010. I was named beneath the rustling treetops of a grove. Of apple trees, by a dove that landed on my mother’s. Shoulders the day I was born. In my childhood. Memories, I see my bare feet splashing through puddles. Of rainwater and my pale skin glistening in silvery. Moonlight; I tried to catch the beams once, and wrap them. Around my fingers like celestial cotton candy. I have a younger brother now. He looks up at. Me sometimes through his thick lashes, the ones that. When i was a ...

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Unsung Rhapsody | unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, January 11, 2010. I was named beneath the rustling treetops of a grove. Of apple trees, by a dove that landed on my mother’s. Shoulders the day I was born. In my childhood. Memories, I see my bare feet splashing through puddles. Of rainwater and my pale skin glistening in silvery. Moonlight; I tried to catch the beams once, and wrap them. Around my fingers like celestial cotton candy. I have a younger brother now. He looks up at. Me sometimes through his thick lashes, the ones that. When i was a ...

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Unsung Rhapsody | unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com Reviews

https://unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com

Monday, January 11, 2010. I was named beneath the rustling treetops of a grove. Of apple trees, by a dove that landed on my mother’s. Shoulders the day I was born. In my childhood. Memories, I see my bare feet splashing through puddles. Of rainwater and my pale skin glistening in silvery. Moonlight; I tried to catch the beams once, and wrap them. Around my fingers like celestial cotton candy. I have a younger brother now. He looks up at. Me sometimes through his thick lashes, the ones that. When i was a ...

INTERNAL PAGES

unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com

1

Unsung Rhapsody: Luna

http://www.unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com/2009/11/luna.html

Friday, November 13, 2009. When i was a child i never. Raised a hand to strike the. Bones, feel day break. Over her charred edges. she. Is bluebell queen damning. Frost with a touch of. Beneath her whitewashed stone. Like her pearlescent tear. Drops striking granite. her skin. Lace was a womb for. Mother earth to sing her. Songs, cry heaven to a late-. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She is the prodigal daughter of an orchid petal, b. View my complete profile.

2

Unsung Rhapsody: Genesis

http://www.unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com/2009/11/genesis.html

Friday, November 13, 2009. No one knew how He. Spent his time weaving. Patterns in the sky,. Of moonrays and sunbeams,. The silken chords of night. And when He pricked His finger,. No one ever knew that the first. Cries of life - that shook the earth,. Trembled the mountains - were. The hand of God. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She is the prodigal daughter of an orchid petal, b. View my complete profile.

3

Unsung Rhapsody: Tattoo

http://www.unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com/2009/11/tattoo.html

Monday, November 23, 2009. I wanted to understand Timeless,. Wanted to wrap my arms around Infinity. Like the rough feel of stiff cotton. Hugs on Thanksgiving. I wanted to. Brand Eternity to my skin so. The passing years would never dull. And when Memory is peering. Into a lidless mirror, I want to. Touch my fingertips to the glass, Forever. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She is the prodigal daughter of an orchid petal, b. View my complete profile.

4

Unsung Rhapsody

http://www.unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com/2009/11/she-is-prodigal-daughter-of-orchid.html

Wednesday, November 11, 2009. She is the prodigal. Daughter of an orchid. Petal, birthing the sun. In secret. i am edges crisp. And charred by your. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). She is the prodigal daughter of an orchid petal, b. I write for a flow of words. I write when there is something to say and when there isn't. I write because someone has to. View my complete profile.

5

Unsung Rhapsody: Candle Flies

http://www.unsungrhapsody.blogspot.com/2010/01/candle-flies.html

Monday, January 11, 2010. I was named beneath the rustling treetops of a grove. Of apple trees, by a dove that landed on my mother’s. Shoulders the day I was born. In my childhood. Memories, I see my bare feet splashing through puddles. Of rainwater and my pale skin glistening in silvery. Moonlight; I tried to catch the beams once, and wrap them. Around my fingers like celestial cotton candy. I have a younger brother now. He looks up at. Me sometimes through his thick lashes, the ones that.

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jeniklas.wordpress.com

September | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/09

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. Poem Not to be Read in a Moment of Silence. 09/11/2010, 11:11 AM. One minute of dead hush- even. The concrete, even.

jeniklas.wordpress.com

March | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/03

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 03/31/2010, 12:45 PM. Here, somewhere along the thirty thousand. Miles of asphalt and countryside,. We are abs...

jeniklas.wordpress.com

July | 2011 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2011/07

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 07/28/2011, 6:20 PM. We are sitting with our heads against windows. Which we turn our eyes upward to. And we s...

jeniklas.wordpress.com

April | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/04

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 04/21/2010, 7:31 PM. These are old ways. Stovetop,. Stirring, warming my forearms by the. 04/21/2010, 7:28 PM.

jeniklas.wordpress.com

May | 2011 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2011/05

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. Dream No. 3. 05/30/2011, 12:53 PM. End of the world. The morning after the world ends. 05/21/2011, 7:09 PM.

jeniklas.wordpress.com

November | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/11

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 11/23/2010, 5:20 PM. This is where poetry hurts you the most. Under the pulled-up nail like a splinter. Like t...

jeniklas.wordpress.com

June | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/06

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 06/19/2010, 4:57 PM. I remember writing letters to you. About broken pots and candlesticks. 06/17/2010, 3:38 PM.

jeniklas.wordpress.com

August | 2010 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2010/08

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. A Little Honesty About Writing. 08/22/2010, 10:16 PM. Because loving the process of writing is loving the defe...

jeniklas.wordpress.com

June | 2011 | REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

https://jeniklas.wordpress.com/2011/06

REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog julie niklas. PHYSICAL LIMIT NO. 1 (FALSE). Hammering a chenille blanket to the wall in the middle of the night. The Kinetics of Fishman Returning to Earth. The Irony of Prose: Chemistry and Poets. From ashes to starlight. Welcome to the funhouse. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 7 other followers. 06/14/2011, 6:15 PM. They are more of a testament to the clock. Than a race against it,. Like a gravestone,.

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Monday, January 11, 2010. I was named beneath the rustling treetops of a grove. Of apple trees, by a dove that landed on my mother’s. Shoulders the day I was born. In my childhood. Memories, I see my bare feet splashing through puddles. Of rainwater and my pale skin glistening in silvery. Moonlight; I tried to catch the beams once, and wrap them. Around my fingers like celestial cotton candy. I have a younger brother now. He looks up at. Me sometimes through his thick lashes, the ones that. When i was a ...

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