Bev Flynn's Blog, page 15

Seasonal Sanctuary

A place inside, assembled tiny nearer.. to the snows.My writing nook for books and coffee,petal-warmth behind the glass.Anticipating a winter of winsome cardinals... and ice.

Tethered

We all.. inside adapt as rainpoemstethered.. to what thrills youweathered, by what fills you.We word-hide dreams of what we're sorry forso no one.. ever knows And so it goes.

Rollaway

Longhand drippingsonto rainwashed gardensyour word evaporationsthat trickle, down my spine.Sentiments, that rollaway as visions, fill my mindas I dream you... one more time

Tolerance

We look for words of tolerancetheir whisper.. speaks aloudthis voice, we bid to enterin the doors within our house.There is... a Promised Landfor spirits, who have flown.Heaven's border verse envelopes angels called to home#synagogueshooting

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We look for words of tolerancetheir whisper.. speaks aloudthis voice, we bid to enterin the doors within our house.There is... a Promised Landfor spirits, who have flown.Heaven's border verse envelopes angels called to home#synagogueshooting

I Know

Today.. I word immortalthe ghost of a tapestry tree.My light ignites our circletairlight, true and nearI know.. that you hear

You Said

Walls of speed, and limitquilts of seed.. and soilthe Poet's households ancient words that claim.Our sky is thick with needour world, a silver starthis core our sacred place.. you said.This common ground ...our homewhere masks are shed

Tire

There is.. a wheninside of me impassible yet wakingseeking cause a light at the breezeI linger, through the pale.Now and then,I feel I'm not deservingI tire myself.. with searching

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There is.. a wheninside of me impassible yet wakingseeking cause a light at the breezeI linger, through the pale.Now and then,I feel I'm not deservingI tire myself.. with searching

Bucks County snippets...