Breadcrumbs

I crumble up the bread
Offer up some crumbs
Jealously guard the loaf
The source from which it comes

This artisanal loaf is mine alone
I do not wish to share it
It’s something of an acquired taste
And I don’t want to dare it

So take the crumbs and leave me be
There’s nothing more to taste
Than the hard-baked hearts of foolish men
Who’ve left their skills to waste

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/simonbleasdale/2510798899

Until…

Till the songbird listens
And the moon beats down
Till the wind speaks its secrets
I will wear no crown

Till the worm does turn
Every verb, a noun
Till the cold snap breaks
I will wear no crown

Till the child is father
To the man
And love is weak
This is who I am

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/pip0ka/14113923932

Haiku – The River

#1
Hold onto what’s true.
Staring long at the river
Won’t wear down the rocks

#2
Wear down opponents
Return their gaze with a stare
Dam up truth’s river

#3
Wear the badge of truth
Hold fast against the river
Even as they stare

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/donsullivan/9752742114

Written for: http://thesecretkeeper.net/2016/02/08/weekly-writing-prompt-23/
using the prompts stare – river – hold – true – wear

Pigeons

The pigeons know all answers.
They taunt with each peck
I knew that
Could’ve told you
But never do.

They’re all around us, ignored.
Scuffed away when they come too close
Tossed crunchy crumbs on winter ice
if we remember.
Living off scraps.

We feel no empathy
Blind to their existence
Deaf to their know-it-all coos.
Winged-rats,
not like us.

But those pigeons have seen it all
From the caps of clouds to the soles of shoes
Salty seas to rusting rooftops
All of nature’s expense and expanse
They feel the answers.

We’re not asking.

 

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/46430981@N02/8479843393

Haiku – Haunted

Strange days are turning.
Rough deeds beget dust, no more,
Haunted by my past

Rough ghosts assail me
Strange fruits turn to dust and ash
Clogging in my maw

It’s the ghost of her.
Dust turning in eve’s strange light
Rough-forms her image

I cry.

 

Written for secret keeper’s weekly poem prompt, using – ghost rough dust strange turn. http://thesecretkeeper.net/2015/12/14/weekly-writing-prompt-15/

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flickr.com/photos/garytrinity/2645250035

 

Writing 201: Poetry #5 – The Map of You (poem)

Along capillaries of kindness;
Arteries of artistry.
Through thin veins of vanity
Knowing you’re the one for me.

Your pulsing personality;
Plate-lets of piety.
The ebb and flow of letting go
Of all that’s dear to me.

I want to be within you;
Part of your anatomy.
But there’s no map to find the way
Of binding you to me.

 

 

Today’s prompts were map – ode – metaphor. The relationship between the prompts and the end product is not always a straight line 🙂

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