Category Archives: New Free Verse

Poetry 2012

The Morning After

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

If wine is bottled poetry what is the cure for intoxication when, having drunk too deep I dance to the reeling word keeping time to music only I hear, when the bottle sits, empty and spun after a  game spinning … Continue reading →

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baking from scratch

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

We think more of ourselves than things rolled from clay and spit should. That sound that sparked galaxies, seeded worlds, impersonal as fish releasing roe into an indifferent ocean– what of it?  Whether it was a bang or a shout is … Continue reading →

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Figuration

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Originally posted on Chromapoetica:
van Gogh paints stars on the interior of a hadron collider, excitation modes divining the luminous day of the psyche, ebullience of the creative moment as comets seed the earth kaleidoscopic supersymmetry unveils strange loops, circumscribed…

Posted in New Free Verse | 4 Comments

the world has a heart

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

barefoot and closer to growing he speaks what green feels he sways to the drum of this world– the heart the driving undiscovered pulse at the core

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 26 Comments

cooking with honey

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

I could simmer gold prettiness steeped with rosemary and a hint of balsamic– a glaze to drizzle over something delicious, but now, right now, I want my honey raw and stolen, a comb sweetened by stings and primal, the way bears … Continue reading →

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The 14 Essential Differences Between Writers and Storytellers

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Originally posted on Trent Lewin:
Writers embrace the lost art of using a typewriter, but have now morphed into the age of computers and file storage in the cloud.  Storytellers have recently evolved out of the practice of flinging their…

Posted in New Free Verse | 4 Comments

on giving blood

Posted on April 22, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

The needle in the fold of my elbow siphons its pint slowly, that thin line of blood similar to what ties me to my children. I feed this, too; life in sanitized, filtered units, impersonal, cooled for delivery. I will not … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , | 29 Comments