A skirt of syllables. A wing of words. And how does it feel to be touched by stars ?
swirled in cloaks of mist
shaking out a web of droplets
Vaudeville dancer
Diana Webb
A skirt of syllables. A wing of words. And how does it feel to be touched by stars ?
swirled in cloaks of mist
shaking out a web of droplets
Vaudeville dancer
Diana Webb
the age of the forest is negotiable
at the edge
of sanity
foghorn
Hemapriya Chellappan
Head bangs, laughter and dancing. Live streaming Foo Fighters at the Roxy.
shared joy finds its way
virtual
sing-along
E. L. Blizzard
At what frequency does this thread vibrate?
Bach at twilight
the spider’s choreographic
moves
Diana Webb
Fairies left gifts here beneath the tree where she dreams. Which to choose. A trinket of wood? A trinket of gold?
a breath
through the leaves
sky’s alchemy
Diana Webb
As the ooze cooled, joints jutted between long, smooth slopes. An unforgiving fragility to climb.
primal churning
a meadow sweats
til the avalanche
Kat Lehmann
The sea is the sea is the sea is the sea whether on the Costa del Sol or a demure resort on the Isle of Wight
sunrise
over the pelagic horizon
matching underwear
Diana Webb
Up in the early hours to brew a coffee munch a chocolate bar. Feels a bit of a dare like midnight feasts of schooldays
dark of the pine
against dark of the sky
morning star
Diana Webb
Only one more hour until dawn. Even on the shortest night deprivation of light and all it brings a challenge.
inner silence
counting on
the blackbird ‘s notes
Diana Webb
Or not.
swansong
no legendary
descending octave
Helen Buckingham
You must be logged in to post a comment.