Tag: photo
-
Sophiac Psalms
A hoot in the dark, aloft on silent wings, a wisdom unheeded Ever flowing a meandering way, ever yielding and always overcoming In a tumultuous world, always chasing in every direction, how not A crackling roar splitting the sky of our complacency A haunting melody whose poignant lyrics we lose and find again Day 2…
-
Contracting Impressions
Constellations, bearing light hundreds, to thousands of years old to our eyes. Light, older still, from stars beyond our capacity for observation, streaking across the void. An expanding edge, beyond which defies imagination, stretching further and further from the 13.4 billion-lightyears away center of it all. Imagine the entire universe is one cell of one…
-
Foolish Notions: a #tankaprose (4/1/23)
4/1/23: April musings A submission due, and yet an unmet requirement remains. A text asking for an ETA is left unanswered. An overcast sky, promising a persistent drizzle, transforms into a cloudless one. Why must these contradictions of common sense fester on this first of April? what elsecan one expect fromApril Fool’s daya clawless cat…
-
Unrelenting
An assignment. Then two, then many: The “to do” list grows, a field of weeds in bloom. The hours available to meet such responsibilities dwindle before their demand. I plunge foward through the maelstrom, only to be born away. The refrain of a familiar Billy Joel song ever playing in my head… crysalis the striving…
-
#SilentSunday (3/19/23)
A rest from #haiku See you tomorrow!
-
#SilentSunday (3/12/23)
A rest from #haiku See you tomorrow!
-
Tai Chi Mind
I. yielding before the onslaught of high tide bearing yin this bow II. grasping fresh soil after the thaw holding yang this lunge III. being atop the peak in the wind beyond bearing and holding this oneness for dVerse Poets MTB: Three Way Split The Pub is open! Come join us!
-
A Desolate Heart
“Welcome to the desert of the real.” –Morpheaus, from the movie, The Matrix An ever-drying aridity. Step after step across a desert stretching to the horizon. Only the memory of water. Such an exhaustion that the expression “dead on my feet” is a declaration of enthusiasm. Here, in the heart of the desert, words come…
Frank J. Tassone 