Lazy Sunday Mornings
August 31, 2008
A tenuous magic
exists this morning,
as we lay in bed
daring not to speak,
move, or even hardly breathe,
lest the spell be dispelled
at the slightest stirring.
the sieve and the sand
Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.
beighartman
captainwinklestein
Julio Chapluzki
freakynewchild
ladydarnell
philip santos
rcribay
Roger Mugs
saxsquatch
David X. Hugo
tynedaile
August 31, 2008 at 2:19 pm
hello. i too write poetry, and i wanted to compliment you for describing what could’ve easily turned into a cliche sceneario, but you managed to keep it short and honest (to the point where i could visualize it and kind of felt intrusive)
so bravo! wonderful piece.
August 31, 2008 at 3:04 pm
Thank you. Intrusive spying isn’t all bad is it.
September 2, 2008 at 5:49 am
that is a very true poem Julio