dark noise
close your eyes
listen
the cool breeze is
whispering
the gloaming fades into night
as crickets chirp in harmony with traffic dinned crescendo
~kat
The Pi-Archimedes verse is:
○ a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines.
○ measured by the number of words in each line 3-1-4-1-5-9 to match the numerical sequence of the first six digits of Pi.
○ unrhymed.
Pi=3.14159…
femme fatale
she twirls loose
strands
of hair ‘round her
fingertip
an absentminded idiosyncrasy that mesmerizes
unwitting onlookers, deadly, as a spider spinning its web
~kat
The Pi-Archimedes verse is:
○ a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines.
○ measured by the number of words in each line 3-1-4-1-5-9 to match the numerical sequence of the first six digits of Pi.
○ unrhymed.
Pi=3.14159…
fear not death
I have loved
magic, hours
that die
like a breath…
fear not death
with delight
feast on beauty
shed a tear
~kat
A Found/Blackout Poem inspired by this lovely poem by Robert Bridges at 100.Best-Poems.net.
I have loved flowers that fade
I have loved flowers that fade,
Within whose magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents:
A honeymoon delight,
A joy of love at sight,
That ages in an hour
My song be like a flower!.
I have loved airs that die
Before their charm is writ
Along a liquid sky
Trembling to welcome it.
Notes, that with pulse of fire
Proclaim the spirit’s desire,
Then die, and are nowhere
My song be like an air!
Die, song, die like a breath,
And wither as a bloom;
Fear not a flowery death,
Dread not an airy tomb!
Fly with delight, fly hence!
‘Twas thine love’s tender sense
To feast; now on thy bier
Beauty shall shed a tear.
pay no mind
it’s not the
bellowing
of vain bloviators that
we
should be paying attention to
in the din is truth they’re trying to hide
~kat
The Pi-Archimedes verse is:
○ a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines.
○ measured by the number of words in each line 3-1-4-1-5-9 to match the numerical sequence of the first six digits of Pi.
○ unrhymed.
Pi=3.14159…
the muse
she is like a penny, face up, begging
to be lifted from the asphalt, treasure
promised if I dare give her a moment’s
thought, a hint of blush dusts her cheeks,
eyes, dark, translucent blue, cerulean really,
that pierce my soul, first glance, drawing
me deeper… she likes shadowy places,
nooks, crannies, pre-dawn and gloaming,
alcoves and hollows, her scent is musk, with
undertones of moss, earth and ink waiting for the
quill’s long, lingering dip, pale skin like velvet,
cool to the touch, covered in baby fine hair that
glistens in the light, her hair, fiery red, long,
wavy, cascading softly past her shoulders…
she is not the life of the party, but her words,
softly spoken, draw select clusters of seekers, like
me, who have grown to appreciate her wisdom
and honesty…fools vex her…she has been known
to slay them with a single line, but mostly
she ignores them, pearls and swine, you know,
for those of us who are privileged to call
her friend, to see the world through her
eyes is like peeking through a forbidden
keyhole, Valhalla waiting on the other side
~kat
For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie’s
Sunday Writing Prompt – To write about my muse as
if she had been given corporeal form and could interact with the outside world.
like mercury colliding... 