what is this? some poems I like and maybe some inspiration for your writing fuel

today is a good day to prune to encourage growth

Now for some poems I like

The Atom No. 18 by Sarah Mangold

~
haiku by Jacquie Pearce

a boy swings a branch swings a boy

~
Visitors by Joan Naviyuk Kane:

Every door stands an open door:
our human settlements all temporary.

We share together the incidental shore
and teach the young to tend the lamp’s wick,

weary of anyone small enough to bar our entry.

~
What I Believe By Kimberly Blaeser

I believe the weave of cotton
will support my father’s knees,
but no indulgences will change hands.

I believe nothing folds easily,
but that time will crease—
retrain the mind.

I believe in the arrowheads of words
and I believe in silence.

I believe the rattle of birch leaves
can shake sorrow from my bones,
but that we all become bare at our own pace.

I believe the songs of childhood
follow us into the kettles of age,
but the echoes will not disturb the land.

I believe the reach of the kayak paddle
can part the blue corridor of aloneness,
and that eyes we see in water are never our own.

~
Haibun With Insects by Megan Kim

here’s the haiku portion

Lightning bug, firefly
I say grass lit like heaven
Is it a violence?

~
from A Year’s Supply of Poetry by Patricia Finney:

So quality is a difficult thing to pin down

And the fault might very likely be with me

And not him and his convoluted effusions.

To Sturgeon’s Principle, I add Finney’s Corollary

Which says that at least 10% of everything

Might be good.

~
\lev by J. Drew Lanham

this selection is in honor of the thrush whose morning today turned out to be its last, after a window

~
Second Crow by Matthias Göritz, translated by Mary Jo Bang:

…
From the balcony, sliced light
leaves behind an arm.
…

~
haiku by Goichi Imase

the place
higher than goose
it is called the sky

~
from Oblivion by Kevin Young:

In the field the cows consider
    oblivion, mulling

it over. They & their many
    stomachs know nothing

stays lost forever—that grass, almost
    cruel, resurrects again,

again. They know even
    drought will end

~

a butterfly
is also made
of dust

Ogawa

— Basho Society (@BashoSociety) September 21, 2022

~
from How to Write by Anne Waldman:

Once, on the Sixth Avenue bus
I got a sudden sensation
I had been alive before

That I was a man at some other time
Traveling

You would think this strange if you were a woman

If I were a man right now I’d be getting out of the draft
but I think I’d want to be a poet too

Which simply means alive, awake and digging everything

Even that which makes me sick and want to die

I don’t really, you know

I just don’t want to be conscious sometimes
because when you’re conscious in the ordinary way
you have to think about yourself a lot

Dull thoughts like what am I doing?

…

A lot of drugs can change you if you want
because you too are made of what drugs are made of

In fact you are just a bundle of drugs
when you come right down to it

I don’t want to go into it
but you’ll see what I mean when you catch on

~

Who are all these strange ghosts rooted to the silly little adventure of earth with me?

— Daily Kerouac (@DailyKerouac) August 27, 2022

~
a haiku by David Oates:

abandoned gas station
paper cups bleaching
in the weeds

~
via tinywords

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A Blank White Page by Francisco X. Alarcón:

is a meadow
after a snowfall
that a poem
hopes to cross

~
from A Coast-Nightmare by Christina Rossetti:

…

Only ghosts in flocks and shoals:
Indistinguished hazy ghosts surround there
  Meteors whirling on their poles;
Indistinguished hazy ghosts abound there;

…

~
from J. Drew Lanham’s Sparrow Envy

~
Door in the Mountain by Jean Valentine

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by Shido Bunan:

Die while you’re alive, and be absolutely dead, Then do what ever you want: it’s all good.

past recommendations: wk.41.22, wk38.22, wk33.22, wk30.22