Bev Flynn's Blog, page 19

Interplay, through Icelight

We...who own no gaps in our tenacityhave words, that we honeat the base of a beamwe recreate unordinary speechpenning dreams, of dewand rootsand interplay, through icelightA soundless infiltrationfrom the otherside, of night

A poem, floats

Wordslide, from a hopeless cloudmy mood, submergeda poem, floats... then fills my lungs, with dream#poetsofnyc#cloudyweather#haikuchallenge

Wrists, and heartbeats

Their kiss, was claimedin saffron pulsesensation red... and sanctifiedtransparency within their wrists, and heartbeats.When Nomads.. mask as poetstheir harmony, shapes dreamtheir fantasiespropel the pulse of June.Contact.. in the grail beneath a Gypsy blaze of moon

That's all, folks.

When your son finishes playing viola... for good. Shades of his final concert.

Sensitivity... to fix

Words... that crosson tributariesmoonlight, in the mixmy poet-rebel thoughts, with criminal appeal.I work, at trusting shadowsto feel you... in my truthI've Never sought a parallel, to this.I've got my sensitivity... to fix

Self-restraint

Timelikein her choicesrevised, of self-restrainther poemlacks of couragetrustbelief.Did you knowshe writeswithout intent to love?Her pen.. is inner breathing held to flame.She lays aside her preferenceher dreams, now dualof bright to shade her grace, exists in grey

You know that touch?

You know that touch, so underhanded?Chemically reactiveyour sustenance.. to cure regret.As time points shootfrom fingertips,here he.. and shecarve motion, on their skin.They handreach, through abandonmenttheir fate.. of undivide.He, and she indelibly aligned

Push on

This experience... is not in my June plan.Briefly sidelined, but my words are always erupting.

Plum, and threadbare

Draft of thirst, lies paper thinyour boundaries, laced in milky edgeslanguage.. absentplum, and threadbare.Roots and flair and impulseallow your words, to free.The grazing land ..of poet fantasies

Pain, and buttercups

She lieswithin a field a flatness, to her verseshe exhales.. bitter coolcelestial, her prose.Her recipeof Stars, en massesome pain, and buttercupspoetry...means living free, or die.It's how her words.. survive