there was a poem
this morning
looping colored cursive arcs
on the ceiling
ready for paper–
it was something simple
like how your voice
wings to my ears
& our laughing braids across miles
or is it inches
between us
the degrees
of separation
are unclear
to me, somehow
debatable
but I had words
waiting
that spoke to this
that I wrote
with water ink
on leaves
blown off
& gone
before they could
be caught
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Words are just wallpaper – the idea is the wood you stick them too. as long as you have them, the poem has a room to live in.
Hey, Seb. I like that.
mmm i think something got “caught” (smile)
🙂 Thanks! Just part of it though…not complaining–I do like the part I did snag.
I’m pondering this one right in the middle of pondering some editing. Can I run on dual tracks? If I see the words, I’ll catch ’em for ya.
thanks–you can’t miss them–they are the ones laughing as the scamper away.
awoke with another poem in your mind that fled from the bed before your hand reached the nightstand? you may have lost something…but this was NOT it. you found it somewhere…under your pillow?
😉 found some of it. The rest of it seeped away as I stopped writing it and read about that stuff in NY.
and your disgust and frustration is definitely felt in THAT piece too. There really is no answer because so many do not want to hear the question. Why. Maybe getting rid of the guns, or make them harder to get…but I think this sick bastards would just find another way. Sorry Susan, it’s horrible and senseless.
Agreed.
I don’t typically walk around with pen and paper at hand so ideas fly through my head and disappear all the time. Waking out of a dream you lost a good one – maybe that’s some kind of motivating impulse to keep you searching for the lost phrases.
This is something that happens about half the time for me, happens to all of us, so decided to use it 🙂
Really lovely!
Thanks, Mama!
To me, you have taken the minimum and created the maximum~ LOVE you doll.
Awww–you are so sweet, Deb!
really like this susan. i’m sold on that first stanza:)
Aw, thanks, Don.
Yeah, I know th feeling, Susan. You’ve capytured it beautifuly, as always
Thanks, my friend–frustrating, isn’t it?