Tuesday, March 12, 2013

crooked like my sore elbow

image via

it's not that the soft wood
of the trunk of the dying tree,

crooked like my sore elbow,
wants something, is it?

insomnia or the opposite?

solitude which is not imposed but chosen?

a chance to stand up straight again,
the right to a hostile act?

new poem written with combined  prompt words from a friend and from deb.


Danielle P. said...

I'm loving these poems of yours!

Deb said...

I agree with Danielle. I love your poems. You need to incorporate these into your work for the shop. Maybe a book or as prints?