*
when my words
surfacing out of
poetry define
who am I
I cry
I also
rejoice and
stand still as
if suspended
all at the same
exact
time holding
that tiny particle
of truth inside me
that shining in spite
of me
.
.
Aug4
Tag Archives: emotions
Dec4
Face To Face
*
it comes up
as water gushing
out of a broken pipe
the flood of tears
when I sit face
to face poetry
meeting me
.
.
.
.
Aug23
On Poetry, 2015
*
it’s an afterword
moving
this of giving poetry
a way
to talk about the beauty
lingering
unseen
sensitivity shining
bright
in our darker days
when we
think there’s little
to be seen
.
.
.
.
.
Aug28
Deep Sea Diaries, August 2013
*
.
sitting on warm steps
on a summer night
at a church entrance
I did not visit
.
ahead is a gulf
lit with tiny lights
trees of different kinds
breathing in twilight
.
inside is a river
restless and charged
I try stillness in vain
nature comforts me
.
.
Aug15
Suggesting Luminesia
I will encourage you to go to this link today
.
http://2luminesia.wordpress.com/2013/08/11/ourselves-among-others/
.
Luminesia is a bilingual blog where my photography students, through a work of IDENTIFICATION with my poetry, interpret the emotions rising within while reading. You can read more about this under Project on the Luminesia’s blog.The picture on the link is a poignant example of the work conducted.
.
Comments are very welcome here or there!
.
Thank you for being curious…
.
…
Aug7
Up In Smoke, July 2013
*
.
not sure
if it was the metropolis
– and the jungles they hold
where we had roamed through
.
or the islands
within the same –
we felt alone among
thousands I could have
.
threaded on – not stapled
to my own thoughts of
failure focusing on
some other survival
.
the incessant sounds
attacking us louder
disorienting forcing
us on movement
,
or the far ones – in stillness
only the wind has a voice
stirring the waves to have
more and animals wild
.
eyes focusing off the horizon
squared lines confining
blocks or concentric ones
as the life rings on a tree
.
you count twenty eight then
call me out I found numbers
we had forgot – it used to be larger
green not the horrible burgundy
.
I shiver some on the island
we could hear the sound of
our own hair sitting close
animal’s life pulsing
.
.
annamosca 