Walk
Don't run when you see the signs:
eyes that never really look at you
a luminous body that does not glow
words that speak of nothing
If you are young it will be hard
to see and read these signs
Age can help define
and justify the leaving
Walk
slow but deliberate;
if you run you will get away
too fast and wont learn the lesson
On the other side is
light and sound and air
This is a daily exploration of creative energy. We post every other day "in response" to each other.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The Art of Closure
Labels:
eyes,
in response to you,
love,
poem,
take a walk
Tru Dillon has been involved in art since she was born. Drawing, painting, singing and writing have captured her interest above all else. She wrote her first book of poems at 12 years of age and has since written many more poems and is hoping someday to create another book of her poetry. For now she is content to write on the World Wide Web. To contact Tru Dillon please go to her web page http://poemandprose.wordpress.com/ and send her a comment.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Ice Blue Eyes
a single face among faces
in a crowd on the street
ice blue eyes, coffee colored face
my heart stopped
an instant
then the blood began to flow,
in earnest
she knew she had this effect
both on men and on women
but didn’t understand why
I didn’t look away
as almost everyone did
she didn’t blink, searching my face
for some indication, some sign
maybe I had the answer
in a crowd on the street
ice blue eyes, coffee colored face
my heart stopped
an instant
then the blood began to flow,
in earnest
she knew she had this effect
both on men and on women
but didn’t understand why
I didn’t look away
as almost everyone did
she didn’t blink, searching my face
for some indication, some sign
maybe I had the answer
Friday, January 10, 2014
El Capitan
Arranged idly on his face
two staring orbs of clouded blue
His hand confessed to nothing
while it pawed the ice cubed air
Down below his palsied feet
danced to a happy tune
only he could hear
"turn up the volume El Capitan"
he sang into deepest echoic space
His lift off was successful and now he was free
Labels:
el capitan,
free,
hands,
palsied feet
Tru Dillon has been involved in art since she was born. Drawing, painting, singing and writing have captured her interest above all else. She wrote her first book of poems at 12 years of age and has since written many more poems and is hoping someday to create another book of her poetry. For now she is content to write on the World Wide Web. To contact Tru Dillon please go to her web page http://poemandprose.wordpress.com/ and send her a comment.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Raynaud's Phenomenon
With one small word
all the goodness had been wrung out of the day
Her secret silver hair now covered in hennas of tobacco brown
and at other times natural brown or natures brown
When wanting excitement
black or very black
Now hung lank and languid over the computer terminal
Raynuad's blue fingers scratching at the keyboard
searching Google for the meaning of life
He walks by and coughs
her fingers keep moving
she does not even look up
Labels:
finger,
hands,
Raynaud's Phenomenon
Tru Dillon has been involved in art since she was born. Drawing, painting, singing and writing have captured her interest above all else. She wrote her first book of poems at 12 years of age and has since written many more poems and is hoping someday to create another book of her poetry. For now she is content to write on the World Wide Web. To contact Tru Dillon please go to her web page http://poemandprose.wordpress.com/ and send her a comment.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Silver Seagull
The pure silver seagull
wrapped its wings
around my finger
“it’s your totem,” you whispered
(we were into totems in those days)
as you handed it to me
it turned out to be a going-away present
I never saw you again
and thirty years later
I discovered where you escaped to
wrote you a letter
which you never answered
wrapped its wings
around my finger
“it’s your totem,” you whispered
(we were into totems in those days)
as you handed it to me
it turned out to be a going-away present
I never saw you again
and thirty years later
I discovered where you escaped to
wrote you a letter
which you never answered
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