Bev Flynn's Blog, page 21

Sign

Been slow to write as of late, unmotivated... uninspired.Decided to sit tonight, and try to weave out some words.I no sooner wrote and sent this first poem, when this blinding light hit from the bedroom, and rolled down the stair.I think I got my sign, so I wrote a second.

Untitled

Been slow to write as of late, unmotivated... uninspired.Decided to sit tonight, and try to weave out some words.I no sooner wrote and sent this first poem, when this blinding light hit from the bedroom, and rolled down the stair.I think I got my sign, so I wrote a second.

Theatre, and moonlight

Theatre, and moonlightthere's tragic ... in the air.We lie, with words unusefulwe poets, rogues... and schemersand dream, in the hands of a dare

Water writ

She climbs the stair,in soft descentas runoff phrases spill, from soulas words.. submerge in doubtshe dares the strength, to write.Water writ, unsinkable... they riseshe wills her verse ... upon a metal tide

Tone poem

She hums a dream, as the canopy... billowshunger, blushedon the edge of a chairemotion, caught on air.Her poem, toned in choice... and glassshe thinksabout your questionshe thought... you'd never ask

Scrawl

Scene from my book:Inner Identity... of Poet.#inneridentityofpoet #scrawl #feel #onthepage #graffiti #poetscratch #PoetryMonth #lulu

Risk

They scrawl some bluebehind their moodand nail some wordsto shingles, on the cloudsas branches... eat the sun.Poets... risk it allkinetic heightsby phrase, of last resort or something, of the sort

unfocused

I dreamta tunnel, blurred of greya gliding throughunfocusedoutdistanced... by the whistle of a train.A howl of windwound round my throat, an urgencya bounding... frayed.The theorist in me, wakensto clarity of motive I can't name

Be in this, with me

Oneness formedof soul, and poemquestions to the etherI am, within this sentienceso intimate... and free.And you... are my fidelityit's here, where you and I are ever, only we.Reach, across the gloaming.Justbeinthis, withme

Westing...

Nightswhen verse, has timbreyou witness wordsthat rend your soul undone.Poets, at a distancetheir gilted music echoeswesting... towards the sun#NationalPoetryMonth #NewYork