Bev Flynn's Blog, page 22

Confession

My center of existence is... of poemI do confessI trust your verse, inside me.You know, those nightsyour not convinced ...you're there?I pay you... close attention.Your words, ordain my prayers#NationalPoetryMonth

Raw

The clock, in her nightis blurry.Poet Deep.And raw.She blindly prays, to thin blue skiesand lays on dreams... confined.Limits... of the same routineshe softly turns, to sleep yetmakes, a planless wish.She's oh so tired... of this#NationalPoetryMonth

Hands can slow existence

Handscan slow existenceby tilt of ink... or wineyour heartbeat wrote, in poet-time.Open handscan write, through separationrhythmic words... so consummatewith palms, that cup the rain.A heel of hands,in presspoint verseto quell against your pain

Fingerprints and faults

Sheet-cut glass confessionsthis rain... splashing truth through the lace.These windows, hold my fingerprints and faults.I smudge them, down the pane

Fragile trace of chains

I long to knowhow poets... face their ragetheir fragile trace, of chainsthe fluctuation...of their demon's process.The evidenceof making love with words... as their decree or how, they revelry.Perhaps... they're just like me

Winter's hour

This winter's hour... worthlessso dim, and circulara weakened lightthat spans across my palm.An empty heat, transparentthen ...you visit meoutside it's shape.A transferencebetween your words ...absolvesI'm warm, inside your psalm

The sound, between our choices

The sound, between our choicesscreams poetry that aches... of two extremes.When pulled apartby excess, or restraintwe pose aloudwithin ...the golden mean

the other side

Alone but I'll endure.your strength... against my spine.One day, you will hold meon the otherside ...of time

Some... are made of impulse

Not all poets, feedupon a high-lift currentsky and strength,against their back.Some...are made of impulse they shift, on cobblestone wings.To some...the taste of words, runs outthere is a famishing.They can always have,the last of mine... to chase, the distancing

Nature's healing

Days of tears and memories.Chose an urn yesterday... for my mother's ashes.Spending time contemplating her life. Connecting to sky, and her spirit.