the inner tide
what moon does it follow?
I wait for a poem~

Diane Di Prima

We dream of the daffodils
that bloomed yesterday
and remember what Emerson said
about flowers:

“The earth laughs in flowers.”

Sad but true !

john zbigniew guzlowski We should have learned a lesson.Simple.

john zbigniew guzlowski Bodies are rotting under the rubble of Gaza

The stench is unbearable

I can smell it

From here

john zbigniew guzlowski Look for a way
Through this darkness
War on the INNOCCENT
Sugarcoated to the word 'conflict'
War unto thee
Ye bloodthirsty people

Peace be with you
Children of the soil🙏🏿

You think you know me?

Read True Confessions and you will.

amazon.com/True-Confessio…

war memorial --
the silence in a hand
saluting

Carole Harrison bit.ly/30hFjEX #haiku #poetry #micropoetry #poem #silence #war

#WritingCommunity you are invited to join me every Sunday for #SenryuSunday . No word prompts, just post your original #senryu to the hashtag. More info on the senryu form can be found at the link below. All variations of the form welcome. 😊

akitahaiku.com/what-are-haiku…

Door Poem #56

The door to happiness
Is in another room.

The room is close
But the door to it
Is closed
And you can’t find
The key

Even though
It’s in your pocket.

You think you know me?

Read True Confessions and you will.

amazon.com/True-Confessio…

Homeland?

I was born in a refugee camp in Germany to Polish parents. Poland was my home though I hadn’t been born there

60 years later I “returned” to Poland. I was a stranger, people couldn’t understand me.

A Polish waitress thought I was demented

lightning-and-ashes.blogspot.com/2017/03/hows-y…

Check it out

Door Poem #56

The door to happiness
Is in another room.

The room is close
But the door to it
Is closed
And you can’t find
The key

Even though
It’s in your pocket.

Boiarski I try to make a list of the women I had sex with and a list of those I wanted to but couldn’t or who wouldn’t.

Some names I remember, some I don’t.

Maybe if I start sex meditating they’ll bounce back to me.

A Poem Full of Fucks

III

My memory is fucked.

🙂

Some names I remember, and some I don’t.

Maybe I’ll try to make a list of the women I had sex with & a list of those I wanted to but couldn’t or who wouldn’t.

Or maybe if I start sex meditating they’ll bounce back to me.

A Poem full of Fucks

II.

Don’t ask me who they were,
The women who I fucked
Who pressed & pumped
& howled & laughed
& screamed & prayed
To Jesus like He was gonna come
& press & pump & scream
& howl & laugh & pray
With us in the bed that was
Always too small for fucking.

A POEM FULL OF FUCKS

IV.

Here’s one I remember: