A lady’s yard littered with stone rounds where creatures dip it’s a wonder how long she’s lived here, the trumpet vines declaring her life a target at the end of the drive indicates a man lives or lived here, but he’s nowhere now and from the looks of it, the house has an attic and …
Birdbaths | JD DeHart Read More »
The post Birdbaths | JD DeHart appeared first on Best Poetry.
Go to Source
Author: Best Poetry Online
Ink flows like blood in deep blue She picks me up several times a day Fiddles around with my logo Flirting thoughts surrounding her smile I have no gender I’m comfortable resting between her fingers The caress of words That connective tissue between Mind body and me Waiting for something grounded in electricity I need…
O today we’ll be merry merry be O today we’ll be merry merry be O today we’ll be merry merry be Tomorrow we’ll be sober Related Stories Lara Egger: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch] Go to Source Author: The Best American Poetry
Origination in water smouldering in fog dry ashes, barren Ogilvy’s note is on the piano, antediluvian ways the notes crisp, emanate from the house which the British made for culture import, my cousins played pianoforte adroitly only Ogilvy is not there culture successfully imported. In the sitting room the cuckoo made noises near the wall…
Dedicated to my nice Romanian friend Vasile You are my inspiration, every day. You are the smile on my face. You are sparkle in my eyes. You are the only song I want to sing. You are my light in the darkness, My strength when I’m too weak, My voice when I speak. My smile,…
I’d like a small amount of kindness. A silver dish of helpful offerings from a place that’s humble. I grew to understand that shoulders are made for lifting up the young. I am not accustomed to begging. We help each other. The sight of chopped wood in the back of a pickup trucks reminds me…
Daddy’s shoe, what do we do, he’s long since gone, Daddy’s shoe, the one he wore when he picked us up from the corner store, He’s a ghost now, invisible, we hear him in the halls, if our voices had walls, he’d be rapping on them, Daddy’s shoe, he’s the fear we knew, too trembling…
