Tag Archives: poetry

sema

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

in the beginning the arms are crossed the body unbloomed bowed tight, folded contained a marionette needing strings snapped through the spin and in  it there is surrender the call to open/loose room for arms to shape an unstudied empty wide enough … Continue reading →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments

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 →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , | 35 Comments

Faith(less): a sijo

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

We whining dots shade/the corner/of a pointillist painting. Lose the art/we have no eyes for it/if we look deep/we see Symmetry/water-spun/the message/of diatoms.

Posted in sijo | Tagged , , , | 59 Comments

hopping

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

The new season shivers and leaps Over jetstreams like skipping rope. We can only watch, winter weak, As the season shivers and leaps It keeps no promises, but creeps Inconstantly from rain to snow. The new season shivers and leaps … Continue reading →

Posted in triolet | Tagged , , | 29 Comments

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 →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , , | 37 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 →

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 78 Comments