Poem #11

I start to write

a poem

and it turns into 

a list

of colors, joys, confusions, 

words rough-edged or velvet

actions, attitudes, attributes.

Too many years of

groceries, chores, to-dos…


And there I go.

A list of words, however beautiful

is not a poem…




Categories: postcard poems, scenery | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Poem #11

  1. Betty frezon

    You are great with words. You make me feel I am communicating with you. Thanks.

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