Friday, May 28, 2010

/creative writing class archives/

"Loose Strife" by Felicia Mitchell

It never comes in small packages,
only in bulk, like tea or heartbreak--

and it is as tenacious as crows
circling the pinnacle of your life

while you stand there above it all
looking down at wildflowers

that would never be as pretty in a vase
as on top of that earthen grave.


This poem is close to me in all of my ways.

Now, a few of my own.

Untitled #41

I looked up to the geese
that called across my winters south
and envied for the one who carried the wind
Yet I found myself hoping for the few
left behind in their own ghost formation
that continued to drown out the rest
with their desperate cries
of wait

Untitled #51

A swirl of color
runs down the back of my neck
spine first and then some--
It laces the contours of my shoulders
and shawls the pattern of my thoughts
with mayday, mayday


And for Today

I'm too sleepy to write.

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