Wynn - Wonder Fell. (Page 30)

Wonder Fell.

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Wynn

Beats, Slams, and Yes, I Am(s)

Beats, Slams, and Yes, I Am(s)

We call it poetry for the ear, But that’s not where we hear it. We call it poetry out loud, But it’s an inside job. We call the meter measured. We call the measure divine. I call the words: All Words! Sweet- Sweet -Tweet-Tweet Twitter-Tatter- Beat-

Good Neighbor, Frost

Good Neighbor, Frost

If the sky and the horizon bent properly, I could see those paper barked birches. Autumn -swung and knocked- swung and knocked Oak and ash and spruce and pine and even Evergreens Grumbled. Fat chirping squirrels bent trunks down. Elasticity whip snapped shot them back up. I crooked my neck

Saudade

Being too empty, being too full of love, for something too far away. Rain. Heavy sometime during the night. The puddles are ponds. The energy is low and warm like snow is pregnant. Snow is bound waiting for tomorrow. Rain is right now. Pay attention: The rain demands attention right

Giant

I am the mountain and the moon.

Your Metaphorical Heart

Your Metaphorical Heart

This one is brilliant. Dancing genuine dances. Eyes blush, roll beautiful. Nervous with her wonderful. Strong how she survives a solar storm of too little, too many bits of light, the normal world calls magnificent. The world has never been enough for you in being too much. Too much what

Dances With Both Legs Again

Forever Moon Skies

Forever Moon Skies

What each night sky knows Each sunrise lacks.

Dog's Got to be Fed Moment

The Moon, Indecisive

The Moon, Indecisive

The shadow shined sunset on the city. The wind slow-whipped and rippled. Can light be a light bed sheet that cools Like a night lit summer night? Can the moon, indecisive, Make the whole world? Yes! Yes! Yes! And yes. Tonight, and sunset held the city Skyscrapers in each

A Certain Sad

Sad today. That welcomed warm sad. The sad you want to stay. That certain sad missing piece. You’ll never know peace, Without this missing piece. Sad day right day to be with That thing. That: -thing-thing-. The only beautiful: -thing-thing-. Rain day, sane day, window-pane day.

Binary Poetic

What’s Poetry gonna do about it?

This Bay Window

This Bay Window

It is definite just before death, I will rest my hand, On this necessary neglected bay window. But will I be absolved to keep the memories of: When I held your soft creased palms, honest and adored in mine, When your so close fingers, soft swept open my hard sullen

The More Store

We sell more more than any other More Store.

Transition Days

Country Eyes

The first Saturday morning in October at Massabesic Lake. The world is in masks. The trees are in technicolor. Autumn in New England, when Mother Nature reminds the Country what color really is. Autumn foliage season begins in New Hampshire. The eyes only see 4k desktop wallpapers. Professional photographers. Japanese

A Candle for Neon

That this matters. These words here. Words. That’s my insistence. That what I do all day, and others can do too, matters to our world. That sharing what matters most to us, even and maybe especially, only literally, matters to us as a society. I work. All day. All

It Is What It Is

It Is What It Is

We feel so uncomfortable Saying the word soul. In the morning: We dress Our children for school. Then march Them off to war. In rooms: Full of Semi-automatic clouds of chalk. Full of The lingering smell of pencils. And tomorrow: Take an eraser To a predictably bloodied world. We

It's Really Something Else

Remove the ant-covered McDonald’s parking lot French fry from its beak, and a seagull is a soft soda pop bottle swaddled in the wings of an angel. Where there are people there are seagulls. Someone’s gotta clean. Pro-tip #1: Should you ever lose your group of

She's Afraid to Hope

She's Afraid to Hope

She's afraid to hope. The spider in my window; She's afraid of hope. Black Widow Beautiful And she (yes, she!) is Afraid to hope. Could it be this time, (Yes, This Time!) the grass (Yes, This Grass!) is actual (In fact, actual!) green. Actual factual Green.

All of Her Poetry, Still

All of Her Poetry, Still

I didn’t know Mary was dead. (No one told me about Maya, either) A blank Pause when I read about it online. Poets don’t go out when we die. (We live with Death while we live.) We stay home. Which is why when Walt said to me (The

A Prism

The secret to a good life Is the secret to the universe. Balance. Balance what? Light. Mother Nature balances the Light. Color is measured in frequencies, So, color is the measure of the closeness… Or better said… the “nearness of the light.” Liquid, gas, solid? No and no and no.

Scroll Down and Forget 'em

Scroll Down and Forget 'em

Snow last night. Treetops Rooftops Road signs Topped Powder sugared Magnificent. Why scrub away Autumn's mess? Let it soak. Snow like scrubbing bubbles, When they melt the mess goes with them. Some metaphors stink. Some similes are like scrubbing bubbles, To do their best work, Let them sit

Y Nt Rn?

Where’s your ambition?

For Pablo, Para Ti

For Pablo, Para Ti

"Soneto XVII o te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego: te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva dentro de sí, escondida,

The Secret of the Moon

The Secret of the Moon

Watching loons at Massabesic Lake while other people fall in love. Pastel dusk sky. Orange is only ever beautiful next to lavender. Traffic. So much at once. People and problems come in clusters. Headlights off the water brings The Night Sky whisper close. He’s got a message for you: