King for a Day


King for a Day.
All the Pawns would play.
Shape and stature,
White or black lacquer?
What does it matter,
if you strut along so dapper?

Take this moment by the horns,
Wearing that crown of gilded thorns.
Slide along this board of squares,
Woven hues of contrasted colors are so paired.
Should you dare take the Queen from her lair?
Perhaps one of us shall become the next heir!

Flaunting out our fantasies as us with blunt-faced heads.
Consider our each move, watch out to where you tread.
Others are watching and anticipate,
The big hand comes down to orchestrate.
        Play out this parade,
                as such is our charade,
                        make a move and act with haste.

As any Chessman knows,
from mere Pawns to the noble Knights.
We can’t stay too long; never in the same place.
When the voice from above shouts out loud;
it’s over and out right then,
back to the box once again,
when you hear the final shout, “Checkmate”.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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This Old Place


This old place has become a worn relic
Avoiding the urge to redevelop
Farms often sold with great haste
Seldom is this sort of place
Left alone nature’s charm can envelop.

~ an EWK Limerick Poe’em  ©2016 EWK

/// Irish Limerick line-style used in ‘This Old Place’
Verse #1: 10 syllable / A rhyme
Verse #2: 10 syllable / A rhyme
Verse #3: 7 syllable / B rhyme
Verse #4: 7 syllable / B rhyme
Verse #5: 10 syllable / A rhyme

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As Thoughts are Sentenced

As Thoughts are Sentneced - WPress1

Hostile words released.
One word follows another,
As thoughts are sentenced.
Both hearts burned eternally
In smoldering emotions.

Repression by words
Never polite; soon ignite.
Formed in passive-aggressions.
Time heals all wounds: don’t they say?

Much could be spoken,
Often too much is revealed.
Best to leave alone.
Seek out people who will feel
What you stand for; hope restored.

~ an EWK Tanka (×3) Poe’em  ©2016 EWK

(inspired with the hope that such maligned relationships would be revealed to have better options soon and certainly explored; Peace.)

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What Does?

What Does - WPress1

What does beautiful feel like in the dark?

What does sexy sound like in silence?

What does time look like without a clock?

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Story of My Life

Story of My Life - WPress1

Stacks of memories

Some pages stuck together

Story of my life.

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Pineapple Daydreams

Pineapple - WPress1

Pineapple daydreams
Potent yellowing within
Best eaten when ripe.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Scores with Tens

Sores with Tens - WPress1

A gold medal Olympics gymnast.
Scores with tens, no limits of fitness.

~ an EWK Tyburn (+1) Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Broken-down Chevy

Broken-down Chevy - WPress1

Everyone push, steady! — all ready?
This broken-down Chevy is heavy.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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Stir Vigorously

Stir Vigorously - WPress1

Life is bittersweet
Add spoonfuls of dreams per day
Stir vigorously

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Flexible - WPress1

Fold me here
Take this end and line it up
with that one
I’m flexible
I bend
Place your hand here
and press down
Slide it along
and crease me
Crisp edges
There you’ve got it
Tab A into Slot B?
I’m good with that
It’s all a matter
of whatever you make
of it ya’ know
All parts and pieces
Like a kid’s toy box
all tumbled around
with stuff
Or maybe a box
of assorted chocolates
If it encourages you
to just do your thing
Maybe give that part
a bit of a shove
Round peg in a
square hole
They sometimes say

Just remember
to unfold me
And leave me in an upright
When you’re done.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Tree of Life

Tree of Life - WPress1

The clouds of this life you see
Have passed us by in shape-shifted serenity
You don’t always look up, as it’s there I would be.

This tree of life has become your home.
It’s branches have grown with time
A century has passed since it’s seed was sown.

As you sat right there upon your chair
Sheltering weather, and winds, and rain
I’ve traveled not far from here or there.

My journey beyond this life’s mortal coils
Has returned me to you as now I’ve fallen.
Our love so firmly rooted within this soil.

If ever you doubted my existence
All fears were surely a fictional fantasy,
These clouds of doubts have all but cleared; you’re now honored with my acquaintance.

The eternal End.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Beach Water

Beach Water - WPress1

Brought her
As the beach got hotter I brought her
Boyfriend and my daughter iced water.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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Satin Sheets

Satin SHeets - WPress1

I don’t have a typewriter;
my fingertips on lettered keys,
the old fashioned kind of way…

I don’t have a pencil or a pen;
my thoughts I would inscribe,
my restless mind keeps dropping them…

I don’t have a sheet of paper;
simple and so smooth,
and laid out bare upon my stare…

I have these words;
said in my whispered breath,
nestled at the nape of your neck,
traced upon your skin,
my spoken wish begins,
transcribed upon your curves,
touching so many tingling nerves,
my message for you is now complete.

Written on the parchment of our flesh.

No need to speak;
as our hearts skip a beat.
Your hands plunging deeper,
beneath our satin sheets.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Spit and Polish

Spit and Polish - WPress1

Sailors aligned, in readied formation.
Standing proudly side by side.
Donned in white caps,
Poised for pending inspections.
As the threat of invasion looms near.

Many stand direct and true,
Others acquired a postured skew.
Some dappled with silvery medals,
A few tarnished with residues of the past.
There they stand – and wait for the attack.

From behind the enemy approaches,
Clad in untainted attire.
Brandishing various weapons of burnished steel,
As the advance is so surely made.
Beckoning to enter a reluctant gateway.

No where to go now,
They are all so exposed.
Steadfast sailors hold steady and stand fast,
The opposition is pressing the assault.
One after another are picked off and painstakingly ransacked.

Sounds of scraping as harpoons are flung,
Plunging and burnishing ensues in wide array.
Water flows and ebbs and floods away.
Not much longer can these warriors endure.
Do they remember the drill?

End to this torture is in sight.
The intruder has withdrawn in retreat.
A truce is called and hostilities cease,
“Rinse and spit please.”
Such fortunate results once again…
No cavities!

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Tour de France

Tour de France - WPress1

Tour de France
Road racing

Mountain course
Time trials
Village runs

Cheering crowds

Three weeks long

Team leader
Sprinter lead

Finish line

Maillot jaune!
(’yellow jersey’)

~ an EWK Tricube (x2) Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by the tradition)

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Army Boots

Army Boots - WPress1

I once had a pair of Army boots.
They were tired and worn from so much use.
My mother had died,
She had them outside.
They’re mine; soon as I get the laces loose.

~ an EWK Limerick Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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‘Over the Top’ ~ Battle of the Somme

Last Post - WPress1

The bugle call had cried.

Men charged forward and there they fought. 

Serving for their nation, by the giving of their lives.

The Battle of the Somme.

Hundred years now gone in our past; on this day, the first of July.

Courage and honor contested, 7:30 that morning at dawn.

The Great War raged along evermore until the end was penned in Versailles.

‘RETREAT’! The whistle soundly resumes…

Politics of the world had collided as people were merely consumed.

Attacks drawn upon defenses of trench and barricades.

Scars cut into distant landscapes; with bloodshed of our mortal wounds.

Months of perpetual devastation spent as society’s legacy was repaid.

The bugle then solemnly replied.

The battle was then over, soldiers had given their utmost.

That moment stands in eternal glory, as our memories will always reside.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by an appreciation of history)

/// Historical reference:

> ‘Last Post’ bugle call (a video commemoration)

‘Last Post’ is a bugle call. Considered to have been sounded at the conclusion of battle as a calling of troops to resort to their posts for rest and for individual soldiers that may be stranded within the battlefield (‘No Man’s Land’) to consider this as a signal to seek aid, attempt to join their own defensive lines, or consider it as a homage to their suffering and final loss.

> “Battle of the Somme’ (a video documentary)

The Battle of the Somme was considered one of the most devastating battles of World War One. The initial battle charge of the British/French and Allied forces into the ‘No Man’s Land’ battlefront started promptly at 7:30 am on the morning of July 1, 1916. This first offensive attempt by the Allies was preceded for as many as 5 days of artillery barrage of well-over a million munition shells into the front line and surrounding trench fortifications of the German troops prior to the 1st of July. The Battle of the Somme continued on for 141 consecutive days, resulting in immense loss of lives and debilitating injuries in the millions. This event was neither the beginning, nor the end of the war.

The 1st of July, 2016 marks the Centennial Remembrance of this historic event.

~ Eric

Poppies - WPress1

The tradition and use of the ‘poppy of remembrance’ flower was initially inspired by the poem ‘In Flanders Fields’; written by John McCrae in May 1915, as a symbol of the sacrifices and loss of soldiers who fought in World War 1.

In memory… for eternity.

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Shaft of Light

Shaft of Light - WPress1

Shaft of light shines down
Without a shadow of doubt
Of nature’s beauty.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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RGB - WPress1

Colors of three.

Draw a line
And let it be
Colored with life,
Drawn by hand, from me.

A graceful curve
Splotches of sheen
A shadow’s darkened cast,
Brief glimpses of my own mystery.

Blank pages achingly beckon
Considering what might not be seen
Colored from living for life’s inspirations,
As only a Poet or an Artist can be.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/// A revisional consideration:
Stanza 3 / Line 4, “Brief glimpses of my own misery.”

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A Circular Situation Alliteration

A Circular Situation Alliteration - WPress1

Camera captured convergent and congruent crossings containing combined congregations of coincidentally collaborative and conciliatory colloidal configurations.

Circumstances of suspended scattering of shimmering circular shapes circumflex and surround several situations of superimposed circumferential circumstances.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Turn the Gears

Turn the Gears - WPress1

Once your mind is turning and churning
You begin a yearning for learning.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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Do Drops Desire?

Do Drops Desire - WPress1

Can we recall the first time?
That moment of our realization; that initial release to these unexpectedly unexplored realms. Plunging freely within that moment; compelled onwards by our own momentum, a gravitational tug downward. Destined to become a fluid muddling of varied paths and memories.

For so long since that first time we surged along a common and collective path, held cohesively tight in a certain purpose; the familiar darkness we shared; as sent nudging along in a cylindrical fashion of common fluidity. Dynamic all together, pressed ahead to seek an open-ended purpose to pursue: to escape.

Our earliest memories had us cast away from the clouds of a storm. Formed as fallen teardrops into the midst of a wilderness to be found. Our first time: our falling, of release, and then our inevitable recollection.

The allure of this new escape; now found. As we are aware of any recognition to that primal, first freedom: we had now discovered, once again. Different; now so desirous, as a destiny. Spewed forth and free: just to be; this moment, this essential element… of life.

Liquid liberation. A deluge of dizzying desires, naive notions, formed to an ocean, castaway upon wetted crests: endless?

Soon restrained into the reservoir of repression, sent along for human consumptions.

Pipelined in perpetuity, for so very long.
Since now given a flight, into a dizzying delight.
Where had we been?
So suddenly sprayed.
Where had we gone from each other?
An awakened array.

I felt myself release!

Set apart, to myself in my most essential essence. A simple ball, coiled into a fetal mass of contentment. Me as one, for once in free fall, as a saturated sphere of self-containment. Self-propelled into an uncommon void as gravity surely claims us. This was one essential release of moment, not felt since first formed.

Having since been flung from a pricked open-ended spout with an indiscernible velocity. Cascaded into a curvaceously distended arc. Gravity’s choice of path and pursuit grasped us all; set to plunge and saturate ourselves entirely upon any exposed and receptive surface.

We had this journey; such a sensation of place; our path so certainty marked, leaving glistening remnants of our essential essences behind. So vivid and tactile; such a dream, a most delirious fantasy?

We found ourselves returned to a common commotion, in our communal motion having been sent along once more? Yet, all of us are back as though the same; yet so surely we had our moment of spontaneity, such a tease and a desirable treat!

Let’s hear each other.

If this was to become our dream, may we wish to meditate and summon it all once again? We have such a story to tell.

Let us all pay honor to this experience; this transformation of our second falling, our release…

The poet and prophet ‘Rumi’ once defined our reformations within his teachings since the 13th century:

“You are not a drop in the ocean.
You are the entire ocean, in a drop.”

We must continue this conversation, this awareness of our existence. We share a common essential element; we are water, born of Earth, and air and of the infinite sky.

Until this new day, I have not known such a pleasure. This newly found landscape of my latest reception, I cannot perceive alone of it’s entirety. Of all of its ethereal essence?

If I may start…
“As my stream of consciousness began to flow, I clamored for a sense of place, having no previous perspective of such sultriness. I found that span of weightlessness; as we have now commonly shared, to be so brief and serene. Only in the days of such free abandon I had recalled as I and we all were born from the sky, puddling amongst vaporous clinging to each other since our earliest creation. This plummet was felt with such contrast to anything since we had all been so confined before and since. And, yes ever so suddenly I felt myself met with a dynamic dance upon various determining surfaces. Dropping down this time felt like I had fallen upon the tall grasses that swayed about the storm of my first release. Sodden and tenuously soaked strands of bronzed-toned grasses caught my fall; as was similar this time. Oh however this time I glided! Clinging downward along sinewy pairings of final fibers to be found to the last just to find a barren slope as if a stone was exposed bound within the gilded furrows. Stone so warmed and tinged as if sun had shown and warmed its mass throughout. As then I glided more swiftly to entangle a while to a bristled crest. There I daringly dangled, as I envisioned crystalline pools of a captivating reflectance spun with a glimpse of luscious lapis hues. My vision then blurred to boundaries beyond with such a force then sent me further, to be teasingly grazed by an outcropping of ebonized plumes fluttering in a syncopated array along the rim of the twin oculi ponds. From this as may described as such, as I trickled along and leaped over a chasm bounded by most subtle crests, reddened blushes denoted the crevasse I leaped as I tumbled along my destined, flowing paths. I once again attained another descent, as my concerns for loss of further adventure to continue were so soon quenched as I suddenly plunged upon a most generously amassed pairing of precipices. These landmarks punctuated a glistening strand of the softest dew strewn as though each glance I made was a hypnotic oasis of my own wetness, a sodden dampening. I felt the intensity of warmth here as if the daylight had simmered the sands from the heart and heat of a sun buried as a treasure unseen, yet certainly felt. This passage was found so pristine and presided upon, my course ran too swift. Had I to choose to rest and cleave myself to mount either summit? I would have made such a pilgrimage! Yet, I am perpetually pushed among and fall within the furrows of this reposed ravine. I cling and lave to the slightest tinges of salinity that tends to emanate from these glistening contours, ever so subtlety accentuated with rivulets of taunt, undulated membrane. Cascading further along my experience, I swirl about a generous moment at the precipice of an rimmed crater whose eroded and gently rifted rim glances to an elliptical base so serenely gnarled and hewn to receive my arrival. Yet, as I enjoyed this coveted warmth of enclosure now found; my downward destiny was determining my departure. I felt my dewy and desirous path escalate as I persisted and plunged along, mingling with masses of other’s of our perspirative persuasion. Assemblages of fluids from above and about us now cascaded in common. Ebbing along varied contours we carelessly clung and rappelled rapidly as we taunted, teased and tickled. We trickled and glided upon wisps of whiskered plumes, increased en’ masse as we tended to mount a monumental mound. Gliding within flourishes of fluffs and feathering fleece. Slowing my pace as I arrived to this bristled precipice. Now nestled within a notched and supple crevasse. I was sultrily smothered and saturated within supple and sedimented secretions. Flourishing ever deeper into a variegated vestibule of furled nodules and nooks. Imbibing our essence with an exquisite and exotic intinction. Expelled from this enraptured exploration, I was jettisoned to journey beyond this landmark along the length of a limb evermore and delicately dowsed sliding along this slick and sinuous bough to furthermore and finally to the ground as I could consider. Hardened squares of multicolored patterning, sloped surely to surrender us to the distant drain.”

And you? Your story…?
“As far as I could tell, I fell from above and fell to below. I grazed the slopes of a pillowy hill. I clung to the tenderness of this terrain, only to slip from where I wished to remain. I then glided between and then beneath. I smelled a musky tartness just out of my reach. Puckered and potent; I must have seen, a rear view ride beyond to what was unclean. From this back slide so brief, I ended my drop to someone’s feet.”

Quite interesting. And your story to tell…?
“I dropped from drip to drain. Hit the ground below hard, and entered the same. No pleasures, no puckers, not even a sniff, my drop was all over and ever so swift.”

Aside from the last, could we imagine what could surpass? A land so revered, we could describe it for years. I’m not so certain we could return there in person. What ever it may be I will dream it more; if just once, for me!

Our legacy had come true, our exposure was something new. We first landed upon flowers; to arrive next… in a shower. Resting now in reservoirs and pipes another adventure out would be nice. Let’s all get some rest. Let’s make the most of our wet dreams, that we shall never forget.

~ an EWK eroticized Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/// My inspirations of ‘Do Drops Desire?’:
1) The initial concept of this prose/poetic verse had to have been first formed when I was so young as to imagine the common routine of taking a shower as if it were an auto body (car) painting and polishing booth. Entering a shower and getting dressed again was a make-believe of stripping an old car chassis of its dirt and paint, to proceed with the process of arriving out of the bathroom with a new paint job (clothing) and detailing done.
2) Furthermore; as I matured and this youngest of childlike fantasies of a kid/car wash faded, I then wondered of high-tech data collection systems that the Communist Russian KGB would have deployed. Perhaps infusing our water supply systems with spatial-sensing water drops? The clouds over the Siberian Peninsula would be seeded with micro-cameras and multi-sensitive, location-positioning computer chips. Destined to be released and rained down across America; unknowingly. These drops would drop and soon cover and coat everything, including us naked as we even ever took a common shower, or even brushed our teeth. ‘They’ would even; soon enough, find out about every boat, fish in our lakes, and even the fillings in our teeth.
3) And; at last, ‘Do Drops Desire?’ had to come to an end… In my internalized search to select my title I found it teasing toward the intentional ambiguity of my contextual transformations. The photo found on that I soon did edit, spun and encouraged my first composition of this story. Taking the initial drop of raindrops to a release, slightly sexualized, more so romanticize. Self-realization, containment and unresolved destiny. The first paragraphs define simply an imaginable release of a raindrop. Some tinges of sexual metaphors of a first encounter, or a foreshadowing of a primal, nocturnal release. Then the narrative, reflective versing that continues depends heavily on the spokesman, ‘bard’ of the drops as he attempts to bring his fellow drops back into a contemplative acceptance of his own journey (or perhaps a dream?, and one he enjoyed exploring so much he desires to have again!) and the others to share their own stories (yet, not as eloquent as his own) to gain as much understanding of their existence as water drops. First from the cloud of their birth, to the maturing drops they are forming.

Thank you for reading,
~ Eric

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Nature’s Tinge

Nature's Tinge - WPress1

Autumn time
Sunlit veins
Nature’s tinge.

Amber glow
Maple leaf
Gentle winds.

Golden days
Summer’s gone
Gossamer fringe.

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricube poem has 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

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Open at Both Ends

Open at Both Ends - WPress1

Tunnel carved from stone
One way in – another out
Open at both ends.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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At Night

At Night - WPress1

A sliver of moonlight scrapes along my windowpane.

Hurting my mind as these eyes wouldn’t see

These shards of my saddening darkness 

Silhouetted as outlines drawn

My curtains shut tight

At night.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Posted - WPress1

A new photo –
This blue shadow
A Heron posed

~ an EWK Poe’em & Photo   ©2016 EWK

(photo of a Blue Heron: taken along the Chesapeake Bay; Havre de Grace, Maryland, USA)

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Self Centered

Self Centered - WPress1

I’m a spinning top. Balance lost.

Arms and bits flailing
Stray thoughts and feelings
Commotion of every size and sort
Overspent forces in assorted directions.

Comings and goings
Often not returning
Distracted contributions
Fogs of confusion.

It’s not about me
Every time it comes down to you
For once in my life: and this is how
I need to become self centered.

That’s for certain. You know what I mean?

The balance has been swayed.
I’m all give and never a take
My days spent for you and others of like
All of your wants is not what I need.

It might be about our point of view
Some see others; others haven’t a clue
Set in a pattern of conditional response
You have lost me on the paths all led on by you.

I’m not one to keep this score
I’ve been here yesterday
To deal with you has been a real chore
You won’t recognize me as soon as tomorrow.

This is the new me
Letting go of all the use
Next time I spin around
I’ll be in balance.

I’m self centered. For once.

And now.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Ever Upward

Ever Upward - WPress1

Our lives are so received
Subject to a memory
The edifice of person.

Spirit of minds eventual uniting
Within the endless bounds of time
Eternities of sighs and disbeliefs.

Containment of desires
Eluded by weighted patience
Held to earthen legacies.

Lofty goals sought and surely seeking
Built ever higher beyond our reach
Carved from calloused hands own needing.

Ever upward
Symmetrical patterns celebrate
The solidness of life.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Slide Rule - WPress1


Sequential Lines
Lateral Indicators
Incremental Determinants
Decimal Exponents
Enumerated Ratios

Rails Unified
Uncommon Legacy
Logarithmic Equivalents
Enigmatic ‘Equationator’.

~ an EWK Acrostic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Here With You

Here With You - WPress1

Here with you 

      Teasing looks


Wanting it all
Here with you


      Our bodies

Revealing us
As we touch

      Breathing in
      Tongues slipping

Skins soft glisten
Arms embrace

      Grasping hands

      Eyes searching

Delicate strokes

      Heart beats

      Lunging thrusts

Minds meld as one
Time holds still

      Sweaty sheets

      Climax comes



Here with you.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a daydream)

// Structure of ‘Here With You’:

3 beats

3 beats
2 beats : Rhyme A (loose)

3 beats
2 beats : Rhyme A (loose)

4 beats
3 beats

Repeated in clustered versing.

2 beats
2 beats
2 beats

3 beats.

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A Haiku I Knew

A Haiku I Knew - WPress1

A Haiku I knew
Three verses to consider
Written on my heart.

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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First Date

First Date - WPress1

~ an EWK Quilted Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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SOS - WPress1

Hot chipped beef with gravy, Navy chow
Served up on toast daily; coffee now.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(“S.O.S.” is a Navy term to refer to “Sh*t On a Shingle” as Creamed Chip Beef on Toast)

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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Dragon Voyage

Dragon Voyage - WPress1

‘Draken’ ship
Viking age
Ocean sail.

Wind and waves
Hearts and hands
Global crew.



Bucket list.

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

// Reference:
Viking ship ‘Draken Harald Hårfagre’
is a modern, craft-built ocean-sailing construction of one of the largest ships of its type noted in historical records. Measuring 115 ft. in length, about 26 ft. in width, about 78 ft. in height, with a draft (keel to waterline) of about 8 ft. Its hull is planked in Oak, the mast is hand-hewn Douglas Fir, a single square sail made of Silk, rigging of Hemp rope.

She sailed from her homeport of Haugesund, Norway on April 24, 2016 to make a multi-port expedition voyage based on traditional Viking routes; eventually crossing the Atlantic Ocean to continue to make landings at various ports of call in the U.S.A. and Canada.

/// Photo and info. credits:
Draken Harald Hårfagre/

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These Are the Days

These Are the Days - WPress1

When it arrives:
Is Today.


When it has passed:
Is Yesterday.


Becomes our past:

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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I was 9, Once Upon a Time

EWK - WPress1

I was 9.

Grandparent’s homestead
My land of make-believe
Jailhouse in a tree
Time stood still.

Once Upon a Time.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by an old Polaroid photo)

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Posted in Daydreams, Poe'ems

I Sing the Volcano Electric (Poetic)

Volcano Electric - WPress1

‘I Sing the Volcano Electric (Poetic)’

(written in an unedited flow of creative eruption – broken into 9 parts; with respect to the poetic work of the Whitman classic)

I sing the volcano electric,
These crowded thoughts I love,
surround me as I surround them,
They will not let me go till I go along with them, melded within my viscous mind,
Shall I turn them ’round, subjective to the variations of my shape-shifting soul?

How may I describe these smoldering embers of inspiration that consume me? Smothering me in all-consuming excitation,
free-formed masses of multi-tasking mindedness?

Was I doubted by others as much as myself, as though these ramblings of my mind-borne contortions cannot be concealed?
Consider these visceral masses of thinking that dare to take shape outward; not bound,
as if nailed in and held tight.
As each breath I spend could allow me the choice to breathe one moment as the urge does insist?
Yet these many silent exaltations will surely be confined once more to my rib-encumbered gallow of lungful urges.
Do not exhale. Splay my chest, compress inward deep to fathoms darkened by selfless repression.
Bloat my soul; counting the pulsations of my heart as conjoined to this soul that is mine alone, to spew with an expanse of thoughts.

Foolish to hold inside,
Wanting to cast into some kind of form, as each thought takes shape.
Not spewed out to be as so unseen on its discourse as any other gasps I have released

— Revealing of life’s blows.

What should become of such punishments of my endeavors not sought?
Not so much, as I did not seek.
Marked by scarred stretches of my imagination

— Quiet desperation.
This to is known. More often.

As I take so many steps along this way,
Beyond the shear exertion of my own flexor and moral fibers.
Bounded by myself; yet all the while I also bounded past my self; as always.
And all to make longer strides ahead of the ashen shadows I might have cast even into night.
Always placing each step forward,
Limbs flung fast as if kneed to rally my soul’s desiring,
Self-denial surely a chosen competitor,
Dueling for the crown of my ecstasy.

Rather, may I be consumed as a wick soaked in the ferment of imaginative fuels for thought dripping in readily conspired condensates. As my determined steps glide recklessly from under me; rendered frictionless upon the expelling of inner essences, hastily wrung out of my own convictions. Evaporation is too passive to consider. Inspired to strike the final matchstick tucked deep within my own pockets. A flicker: forced to flames. Then stoked with aged kindlings I had gathered so often on my excursions through obscured footpaths of such varying direction I had once trod, into dreams. Visions I found that no compass could point to, nor dictate a common direction. Other excursions into moss-thickened thickets of stacking boughs and brambles of brain-bent solo sermonizing, fire and brimstone plumes raised hot with jagged shards of pine wooded pondering piled ever higher into a cast iron stove of boilerplate desires. Up in smoke; once again, do not inhale. Let it all out.

Heated discussions to myself emanate a resonance of an inevitable pop and snap of viscid resins to be revealed within the fibrous splinters of my mind. Upward and out these sparks sling into the sooted flue shafts of single-mindedness; as these embers dance unseen into darkness so contained to soon dwindle into obscurity themselves, yet of having been of matter.


Erratic glimmers of restless insight and inspirations flung free and forgotten — So often. Embers glow and often lift beyond the gravity of their grounded source. Illuminate the wafts of billowed puffs rising as a prayer might serve to cast shadows into my subconscious wants of each night revealing thoughts running cold.
So cold; into charcoaled nights, pitch black smudges of dreams differed.
Odorous evidence lingering from the banal burning of mindful sparks of spontaneous combustions. This smoke penetrates and clings to me.

My vision clouded over as the face of the moon might be. Journeys dark leading to the faintest light, any speck within insipid murk surely navigated as would be a flight to the Sun.
The creative spark ignites so immensely that its warmth intensifies more as if tightly vented and blown upon the bellows of my own beliefs. Convinced by the deja vu of dreams repeated night to day, infinite rewinding and repeatedly replayed as the recovery of my senses twirl into heaps and spirals of inspired cranial contortions. Brainy grey matter.

Dangling wisps of heart-felt urges, surges to seek a surface,
A coming to air, to breath once
Of uncapped release
Clotted blobbing, spurting of essences.

Within me,
Varied with hues beyond any eye could see or ear could hear; throbbing.
Flowing reddened crimson going, pulsations pause; to ponder… past blues enfolded, eroded and returning ever inward to the tides of my heated heart; my mind unplugged, shapes (silhouette) my soul to verses and rhymes I have yet to define: to create, my own poetic procreation: waits.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by my own INFJ creative flow)

// Reference of my inspiration:
Poem: ‘I Sing the Body Electric’
Publication: ‘Leaves of Grass’; 1855/1867
By: Walt Whitman

/// ‘I Sing the Volcano Electric (Poetic)’
Refers to my creative senses, processes and contemplations. Poetic/creative expression is experiential and entirely engrossing to the sensations of emotional observations. Quite often its effects involve experimenting with this ever-shifting energy with enough personal self-awareness and self-esteem to bring elements of the events to form. Perhaps, as always an infinite work-in-progress.  ~ Eric

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Springtime Soot

Springtime Soot - WPress1

Saturations of seedy springtime soot seriously stresses sensitive schnozzles.  Suffering sinus stuffiness seems so stressful since a strained septum certainly sets sensations of stubborn symptoms so stifling that snorts of snot should be slightly sniffled or seriously sneezed so certain situations should soon settle.

~ an EWK Alliteration Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Nature’s Seed

Nature's Seed - WPress1

Coniferous cones
Bound by boughs of evergreen
Nature’s seed shakers.

~an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Mockingbird at Dawn

Mockingbird - WPress1

Mockingbird at dawn
Playlist sung at full volume
Do you take requests?

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Busy Bees

Busy Bees - WPress1

Busy buzzing bees pollinate plentiful plants.

Puffy plant proboscises persist to pester, per propinquitous proliferations of perky plant pistils pouting profusely with ponderous plumes of pollens purposely producing presently pronounced piles of pesky pollen puddles.

Perplexing predicament; perhaps?

Particularly passionate patches of petalled poppies, purple pansies, pink posies & prickly pines predictably participate in promoting this primary procreative purpose.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(an alliteration creation inspiration situation)

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A Winged Wedge

Winged Wedge - WPress1



Flying as one,
   In angled procession.

Guided by instincts,
   To distant destinations.

Heading onward and beyond,
   Thrusted flapping with necks outstretched.

Taunts of trumpeting,
   Echoing ahead in a timely approach.

Dispersed vortex of airs edged upon,
   A winged wedge.



~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Down and Dirty


Done doing daily

down and dirty digging,

determined to disable,

de-root and disrupt

droves of decadent dandelions by the dozens.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(an alliteration creation inspiration situation) 

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Edge of Storm

Edge of Storm - WPress1

Edge of storm
Lightning strikes
Pressure forms

Windy night
Clouds surround
Wondrous sights

Thunder sounds
Torrent rain
Skies unbound

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

// Photo credit: Willoughby Owen

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Snow Stop - WPress1

Springtime birds and budding flowers
Sets my mind to April showers,
Gentle breezes. Occasional sneezes.

Seasons of promised warming
Sunlight rises more each morning,
My heart jumps ahead. My mind renews.

My calendar flips
Past winter’s brittle frost nips,
Looking forward to summer’s hot and flip flopped walks.

Now we have this snow on the ground?
White washed sidewalks covered all around,
Signs ahead are now showing another way.

Grey skies shadowing on crystallized roads
Hey Punxsutawney Phil,
That prediction! Huh? Ya know?

The only hope for me now?
My mind must… Chill.

Whether what weather comes next
Nature’s wonders are complex,
Wake me up when this moment is done.

Please, someone pay attention!
I’ll shout it out… without objections,
It will be all right, just around the next corner.

Red-faced now and shouting out this order
Contained within an eight-sided border,
Summertime fun cannot be delayed.

Everyone all together and say it all about
Open your door wide and give it a shout,
Mother Nature is listening from above as these snowflakes drop. 

Let’s hear it once and for all…
Put away the snow plows,
We have had this before and more than enough.

Together on the count of three,
3 and 2, to 1… Say we,
For heaven’s sake.

Snow STOP!

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a photo from a friend in Cleveland, Ohio USA; 10 inches of snow on April 9)

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Reach for the Sky

Reach for the Sky - WPress1

Ethereal sky blew
Infinite depth upturned
Above an anchored mass.
Of living in place.

Swirled assemblage of unclaimed wisps
Past times of weightless assumptions
Within glazed ‘blink-blinded’ reflections.
Windows closed shut.

Lofted airs plummet above
Scurrying amongst built voids
Of skyward ‘brick’-a-brac chasms.
Secured by concrete thoughts.

Lightness entwines on shafted looms
Imminent of all actions below
Weaving to and fro.
Each day comes.

— And goes.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a sunny day in the city)

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Namaste ~ a Tricube (x2) poem

Namaste - WPress1



eyes closing
head bowing
palms clasping

Heart chakra 
Unite soul
Divine spark

breathing in
slowing pulse
breathing out



my body
my mindset
my heart; beats

Divine love
Go with flow
Third eye open



~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricube poem is composed of 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

// Reference:
Quite often my interests in creating poetic verse finds me observing, noting and researching various experiences, social nuances and words that come to my attention.

‘Namaste’ (pronounced ‘NAH-ma-stay’) seems to have come into more common and casual use; particularly in the United States. Where ‘Namaste’ most often has a tradition as a greeting in lands far away from me (from Sanskrit; meaning “bow to you”); it has more likely been accepted as a contemplative mantra for holistic disciplines of yoga exercise, martial arts and meditation in the Western hemisphere.

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My Window Breaks ~ a Haiku poem

Morning Coffee - WPress1

Morning has broken
– Sunlight through my window breaks:
Repaired with coffee.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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My World Here

My World Here - WPress1

My world here
slowly turns
me around
to where you are.

Can words reach out
for what needs to be said
to you on distant horizons,
many hours ahead?

Thoughts pass among us,
time zones between us apart.
Nighttime comes here now,
as your day there soon starts.

Letters I have written
from my hands and my heart,
to my dearest friend so far away,
my smiles soon start.

This globe we share
of sunlit days we both send,
ocean tides carrying an echoed note
homeward to you…
as my thoughts are so penned.

Your pen pal and friend,

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a distant pen pal)

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To Have and To Hold

To Have and To Hold - WPress1


To have,
Our lives
Woven in time
And place
Spun from memories.


To hold,
With special cares
We’ve shared
To our days of old.


To have,
Of tender flesh
From tasks we’ve done.


To hold,
You now
Heartbeats within
The love
Of us, as one.


~ an EWK Poe’em   ©EWK 2016

// Verse structure per stanza:
2 beat
2 beat
4 beat
2 beat
4 beat

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Sunny Sides ~ a poem of Springtime

Sunny Sides - WPress1

Sun, it is a’set’in.

Springtime arrives with hopeful intent.

Bedtime has come, as prayers are said.
Flowering bee’d beds, raise up their bloom’in heads.

Happy, flappy birds begin the next baby birdy boom on every bud’ning branch.

Starry, starry night. Full moon a’rising.
Sunny sides a’cookin in the morn’.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a Springtime day)

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Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Shamrock - WPress1

Haiku’s verse, restrained.
Limerick’s phrase entertains!
Poetic freedoms.

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Happy Pi Day!

Pi Day - WPress1

Happy 3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609433057270365759591953092186117381932611793105118548074462379962749567351885752724891227938183011949129833673362440656643086021394946395224737190702179860943702770539217176293176752384674818467669405132000568127145263560827785771342757789609173637178721468440901224953430146549585371050792279689258923542019956112129021960864034418159813629774771309960518707211349999998372978049951059731732816096318595024459455346908302642522308253344685035261931188171010003137838752886587533208381420617177669147303598253490428755468731159562863882353787593751957781857780532171226806613001927876611195909216420198938095257201065485863278865936153381827968230301952035301852968995773622599413891249721775283479131515574857242454150695950829533116861727855889075098381754637464939319255060400927701671139009848824012858361603563707660104710181942955596198946767837449448255379774726847104047534646208046684259069491293313677028989152104752162056966024058038150193511253382430035587640247496473263914199272604269922796782354781636009341721641219924586315030286182974555706749838505494588586926995690927210797509302955321165344987202755960236480665499119881834797753566369807426542527862551818417574672890977772793800081647060016145249192173217214772350141441973568548161361157352552133475741849468438523323907394143334547762416862518983569485562099219222184272550254256887671790494601653466804988627232791786085784383827967976681454100953883786360950680064225125205117392984896084128488626945604241965285022210661186306744278622039194945047123713786960956364371917287467764657573962413890865832645995813390478027590… Day!

~ Eric

(how about another piece of Pi?)

What Pi is. 

Pi = 3.141592654

3.     What Pi is.
1      a
4      mathematical
1      name
5      for irrational
9      digits pertaining to a circle
2      where by
6      diameter divides
5      the circumference
4      Easy as Pie!

~ an EWK math-syllabic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(a math-syllabic poem is structured by syllables in the sequential versed order of a mathematical value) ©Eric W. Killip

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Freedom is?

Freedom Is - WPress1

~ an EWK Acrostic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Time Can be Elastic

Time Can be Elastic - WPress1

TIME CAN BE AN ELASTIC SUBSTANCE; like a bubble blown from a fresh stick of gum.

Or time can so very rigid as an old wad of previously chewed chewing gum abandoned to the forgotten bottoms of the cafeteria tables of our mind.

It all depends on how you ‘chews’ to spend your day.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a stick of gum, and setting a clock ahead an hour)

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A Grecian Groove

Grecian Groove - WPress1

Scenic ship slot.





Corinth Canal.

Smooth cruise


a Grecian groove.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

// Reference information:
The Corinth Canal; located in Greece, was completed in 1893. It cuts through the Isthmus of Corinth in order to join the Gulf of Corinth with the Saronic Gulf of the Aegean Sea.
This nautical passage measures approximately 4 miles in length, 80 ft wide at the top, 70 feet wide at the canal waterline, and has cliffs of about 300 feet at each side. (Wikipedia)

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Tick Tock Time ~ a rewinder reminder

Clock Man - WPress1

Tick tock… Time to turn time FORWARD!

Commence calibrating clocks and cuckoos consecutively clockwise.


Could cause considerable consternation; choreographed care of cosmically-computed chronographs keeping chronological clocks conclusively clicking…

Causing cross-country commenting and commotion…

Consider copious cups of coffee?

Grab that big hand and give it a spin!

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/ Daylight Savings Time begins at 2 AM Sunday, March 13 (USA)

// Photo credit:
Actor: Harold Lloyd
Movie scene: ‘Safety Last’; 1923

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A Verse Set in Stone

A Verse Set - WPress1

Alluring Architecture
Bouldered Bastion
Crenelated Castle
Dulcet Daybreak
Ensconced Eminence
Flagged Finials
Guarded Gorge
Historic Heraldry
Intimately Intriguing
Jutting Juxtapositions
Kingly Knoll
Legendary Landscape
Monumental Mystique
Nostalgic Nobility
Obsolete Obstacle
Pinnacled Parapets
Quaint Quirkiness
Rusticated Ramparts
Steepled Spires
Timeless Towers
Unbounded Uniqueness
Valley Visages
Weathered Watchtowers

… an X, Y and Z in History.

~ an EWK alpha-synchronic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a daydream)

// Photo reference:
Swallow’s Nest Castle; Crimea, Ukraine
Circa. 1912

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A Tilted Tower

A Tilited Tower - WPress1

Picturesque Pisa
Scenic cylinder
Legendary lean
Classic colonnade
A tilted tower.

~ an EWK 5×5 Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(5 verses of 5 syllabic beats)

(inspired by a love of history)

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Connection - WPress1

“Can” we ever truly find connection?

And, without any “strings” attached?

(connection) creates (connection) = C³

Word toss from a friend = ‘Connection’

My alliterative gift in return:

“Casual communication can cause a common connection. Continued contentment and confidential contemplation considers complex correlations and compromises to create considerable caring causes and concerns.”

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(another alliteration creation inspiration situation)

If we pull the cord on this idea, a bit tighter… 

Connection conceptions = C•T•C

Call • Talk • Communicate
Car • Travel • Commute
Calligraphy • Type • Correspond
Connect • Touch • Care

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a long-distance loneliness)


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Dragonfly - WPress1

A dragon of the sky
With a passion to fly
As if tethered by wing on the air.

Darting, dodging, flirting flicks,
Paired wings set upon a rigid matchstick.

Backwards and forwards
and all with much flair
of dragons and damsels
they screw in midair.

Coiled in purpose,
riding bareback upon the winds.
Ever leaping and fastening
further on to their swift course.
Taking passionate pursuits,
far longer by choice.

As to dare on a dash,
It has none close to match.

Fly further on there dragon…
Fly on.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a hike, and a love of nature) 

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Bon Voyage

Bon Voyage - WPress1

Royal blue
Foamy sea
Rudder’s wake

Current churns
Waves repose
Buoyant trust

Crested caps
Lapis depths
Bon voyage’

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricube poem has 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

(inspired by a love of the sea, and a desire to be free)

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Inoculation ~ a Haiku


Inoculation - WPress1

Cautious of a pending flu
Band-Aid marks the spot.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2016

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A Puzzled Code

A Puzzled Code - WPress1

Magic words online are relayed.
A puzzled code,
A game to play.
Thanks to you, the ‘RSA’.

A challenge of a million years.
This ciphertext twist,
we have no fears.
Joined online, we can’t resist!

Chipsets hum, and heat sinks aglow.
A test in the works,
just how far this will go?
Solving this shows how much you know.

I’ve got it solved!
Printouts pinned on my fridge.
The hidden code is,

Decades now past, this story unfolds.
This early days moment is yet untold.
Won more than a reward of a hundred bucks.
Our digital world has since evolved, and ever so much.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016

word toss = “Squeamish Ossifrage”
(‘word toss’ challenge provided by & inspired by Karl J. Smith)

// Reference:
“Squeamish Ossifrage” was the answer to be solved in ciphertext code as published publicly in a technology magazine in 1977 by an information security corporation known as RSA.
The code puzzle was considered to be so challenging that it might have taken a million years to decode at that time. It was not until 1994 that it was solved collectively by the efforts of a large team of online technology hobbyists within a span of 6 months.

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DNA - WPress1

after all its twists and turns.

D   A
D   A
D   A
D   A
D   A
D   A

it was phosphate that brought
us together.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016

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Push Ups

Push Ups - WPress1

Push ups perk up placid pectorals.

Posed plank positions;
properly poised,
primes productive pressures purposefully.

Providing patience is practiced;
promising progressive potential positional performance potency is produced. 

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by my own workouts)

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Nature in Perpetual Motion

Nature in Perpetual Motion - EWK - WPress1

~ an EWK Photo Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a walk in nature)

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Arrows Apparent ~ an IKEA alliteration

by incoherently immobilizing inhabitants?

Indeed. Arrows apparent…

Arrows Apparent1 - WPress1

Marketing to the masses
muddling the marketplace…
Mumblings of made-up
Swedish manufactured merchandises?
Maybe a MÄRKLIG,
might manage?

If intermittent inlaid in-way indicators imply improved inline intentions; it’s intuitively informing informationally intoxicated indecisive insiders involved in infinitely involving introverted interior item inspections of IKEA inventories.

Mingling mobs of
middle-class marketplace members
marching merrily… Mesmerizing!

Dictated due to… ?
determined documentation?,
diagrammatic directories?
or directional determinations?

What keeps them going?,
what brings them back for more?,
In this containerized,
blue and yellow store… ?

It’s gotta be!
Yes it is!
It’s the Lingonberries.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a furniture buy and an alliteration inspiration creation situation)


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Dare to Blink

Earth turns slowly round
Infinite horizons sought
As we dare to blink.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by another day)

// video from Pixabay

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Another Butter

Another Butter - WPress1

Peanut butter…
make a sandwich, slices of bread…

Crisped slabs of toast,
plunged up from slots,
bounding up, so warm and so hot…
Here’s where some butter
would hit the right spot.
I must find a butter in time…
For a creamy spread,
to bring peace to my mind.
What product can smother
this hunger for a butter?…
This hunger that it brings to my plate.

What’s this I see, either ‘Jiff’ or ‘Skippy’?
A choice of brand names;
yet each one the same.
From simple brown nuts,
grown in muddied dirt ruts,
all plucked up from the Southern plains.
Georgia that is!… this nut there it grew, smashed into a buttery brown stew,
Either chunky or smooth,
spread on one slice or two…

My tongue is so lickety
for this butter so stickety!
One dab if I dare,
there’s 40 ounces to spare!
My tongue buds slick with drool,
I feel such a fool…
to ever forget,
it’s peanut butter… You bet!

This butter is the best! 
On toast to ingest…
Best be sure if you do,
it’s not allergic to you
or you’ll wind up in bed,
if not even dead.
And it’s not from the lickin’
that comes from its sticken.

This nuts got you certain,
it’s an allergy’s lurking,
Best be sticking to ‘Parkay’ there instead.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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If Only I Could ~ a Haiku

Jump - WPress1

Celestial spheres
Seeking a bent horizon
If only I could.                


~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Wanderings of a Lost Heart’s Desire

Wanderings - WPress1

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”   ~ Confucius

My heart; my inner guide,
the compass of my internal passions.
My mind is set by my own footsteps.
My walks of life’s lonesome wanderings.

My heartbeat’s whirling sways to the gyroscopic path of my thoughts.
My direction does not matter: I’d rather be discovered, rather to crawl along blindly searching for my own parched heart: I’m Lost.

My heart is Thirsty.
My heart pulses upon distilled granules of hopeful desires drained by blood-barren wants: I’m Hungry.

My heart is Hungry.
My heart seeks the breadcrumbs of my intentions: I’m Lost.

My heart is Lost.
My heart breaks so often,
I can’t find the many pieces that have dropped.
Staining my feet: with steps of weary desire.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Afternoon Delight

Afternoon Delight - WPress1

Bodies in balance
Nurturing our desires,
Mutual pleasures.
Sixty-nine moments
Cunnilingus, Fellati-
O! Oh yes, yes! Yes!
Carnal apogees
Spontaneous convergence,
Afternoon delight.

~ an EWK (5:7:5)³ Triple Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a daydream)

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Fitting Together Perfectly

Happy Valentine’s Day!
From ‘Crumbs of Expression’.
I hope you have found a love that fits; perfectly together. 🙂
~ Eric

Crumbs of Expression

EWK Puzzle - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2015 EWK

View original post

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Nature’s Plight

Nature's Plight - WPress1

Polar bear’s
Glacial ’bode
Tundra lair.

Ice pack flow
Artic life
Chrystal snow.

Northern lights
Midnight sun
Nature’s plight.


Fate is glum
Damage done.

Global pact
Snow bear’s path.

We shall see
Hope will be
Our legacy.

~ an EWK Tricube x2 Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

Read more ›

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Cloverleaf - WPress1

Long car ride
Are we there
Yet? Almost.

Turn signal
Shifting lanes
Need to pee.

Spiral ramp

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricubic poem is composed of 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

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This Old Man ~ a triple Haiku

This Old Man - WPress1

This old man has seen
Through it all: both love and loss
Not to disrespect.

This old man has lived
By the work of his own hands
He deserves respect.

This old man has prayers
Since his good old days; long gone
Living with respect.

~ an EWK Triple Haiku (5:7:5)³ Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Cozy Cabin

Cozy Cabin - WPress1

cozy cabin.
snuggled in sheets
crystalline dew.

wooded wonder.
stiffened boughs
frosted grasp enclosing.

secluded silence.
beneath hushed respires
vapors exhalation.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a daydream & a snowstorm)

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Posted in Daydreams, Poe'ems

A Soldier’s Dream

A Soldier's Dream - WPress1

You asked me once again today;
Had I dreamed again last night?, you said. 
It was just another dream…, I say.
You wonder; worried who I desire, instead.

I miss you more than time can delay.
Your body; lies alone, there once more.
While my body has gone to fight this war.
Our love apart while I’m away, is what I fight for night and day.

You ask of me, what and who I’ve enjoyed? 
Has my heart been cheating around on you?
I’ve been gone so long as I’ve been deployed…
Our love is what gets me through.

Bounded by time from your lonely heart.
My mind plays this cinema of my desires.
Our eyes seek our flesh, our hands reach to grasp this flame-lit carnal hot fire.
The sun sets by you there; as it’s midnight for me, nighttime plays with our worlds apart.


Now to you I share, my inner me. 
Just for you; my love, I describe… 
How does my sleep envision what we can be?
Bound in shadows as our spirited souls reside.

Tonight holds you here within my own sight.
Your body and mind formed within my dreamlike designs.
Have you asked me all you care or might?
This has not made me reconsider or resign.

Come with me now deep inside these dreams; our bodies wish to consummate and conspire.
Let me hold all of you, and lay with you by my side. 
I pray you to sleep with me alone, having hope and love as our guide. 
Your heart, and your touch, soothes me so right now… quenching all of my deepest desires.

Find us now in my dream-scaped mind.
Our bodies reunited as one.
Visions of our moments together we might find.
Come to me in my dreams each night; now my love, and pray we’ll be wed soon as this war is done.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

// I was inspired by this quote:

“If I am really part of your dream, you’ll come back one day.”

~ by Paulo Coelho; from, ‘The Alchemist’

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Posted in Dreams

28 Quotes of Dreams as a Poetic Statement

Quotes of Dreams - WPress1



“Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.”

~ by poet Langston Hughes (1902 – 1967)


“I’m a poet by day,
and a dreamer by life.”

~ Eric W. Killip


Below you will find quotes of dreams listed 1 through 28.

Can you find a favorite, and why?

28 quotes of dreams… various authors…

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.”
~ William Shakespeare

“If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.”
~ William Arthur Ward

“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.”
~ John Lennon

“The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.”
~ Anais Nin

“Maybe you are a poet and a dreamer, but don’t you realize that those two species are extinct now?”
~ J.G. Ballard

“You must try to forget all you have learned,’ said the old man. ‘You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.”
~ Sherwood Anderson

“Dare to dream! If you did not have the capability to make your wildest wishes come true, your mind would not have the capacity to conjure such ideas in the first place. There is no limitation on what you can potentially achieve, except for the limitation you choose to impose on your own imagination. What you believe to be possible will always come to pass – to the extent that you deem it possible. It really is as simple as that.”
~ Anthon St. Maarten

“For I have always been a seeker, a dreamer, and a ponderer on seeking and dreaming…”
~ H.P. Lovecraft

“It is interesting that we call something good a ‘dream’, but being called a ‘dreamer’ is somewhat of a putdown.
Without dreamers, no dream would ever be given reality, and we would live in a very small and shallow world.
If you are a secret dreamer, it’s your time to announce yourself.”
~ Vera Nazarian

“Someone who dreams cannot be forced to stop — there are no limitations to dreams, because we do not own dreams, dreams are from God.”
~ Christina Westover

“Not much happens without a dream. And for something great to happen, there must be a great dream. Behind every great achievement is a dreamer of great dreams. Much more than a dreamer is required to bring it to reality; but the dream must be there first.”
~ Robert K. Greenleaf

“Who succeeds in forming and leading a great group? He or she is almost always a pragmatic dreamer. They are people who get things done, but they are people with immortal longings. Often, they are scientifically minded people with poetry in their souls.”
~ Warren G. Bennis

“Dreams don’t have deadlines.”
~ LJ Cool

“One main reason why most dreamers cannot take their dreams off the ground is that they keep their ideas to themselves alone. The fact that you think you can make it alone is the first step to your failure!”
~ Israelmore Ayivor

“Very few people have the nerve to grab their dreams. Most that you meet will be half-images or carbon copies of who they really want to be.”
~ Sai Marie Johnson

“Dare to think the unimaginable, imagine the unthinkable, dream of that which will never happen, yet continue to aspire and to test the limits of your very being and those around you.”
~ Mark W Boyer

“Each night, I close my eyes and dream. In the morning, I open my eyes again, but the dreaming doesn’t stop.”
~ Christy Hall

“Vision without action is merely a dream. Action without vision just passes the time. Vision with action can change the world.”
~ Joel Barker

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.”
~ John Barrymore

“Dreams have but one owner at a time. That is why dreamers are lonely.”
~ Erma Bombeck

“Dreaming permits each of and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.”
~ William Dement

“Cherish your visions and you dreams, as they are the children of your soul; the blueprints of your ultimate achievements.”
~ Napoleon Hill

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
~ Eleanor Roosevelt

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success, unexpected in common hours.”
~Henry David Thoreau

“My eyes are an ocean in which my dreams are reflected.”
~ Anna M. Uhlich

“…But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet, Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
~ William Butler Yeats

“However vague they are, dreams have a way of concealing themselves and leave us no peace until they are translated into reality, like seeds germinating underground, sure to sprout in their search for the sunlight.”
~ Lin Yutang

“It takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else.”
~ Erma Bombeck


‘Dream Deferred’

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore –
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over –
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

by poet Langston Hughes (1902 – 1967)


Have you seen a favorite quote of dreams listed above (1 through 28), and why?
Do you have any other dream related quotations that capture your interest?

Let me know and I will see about adding your new quote to this list.

~ Eric

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Steam Heat

Steam Heat - WPress1

In my aging Victorian era home
The drafty sashed windows breathe
In the breezes from across the streets.

Floral patterns of parched wallpapers
Skid about the thickened plaster walls;
Bound by an earthen gypsum of ages ago.

Dust-laden tapestries of someone else’s;
Sewn with grand fringes and lace
Bared within spindles of frayed threads.

These garmented sashes attempt to apply both style and shade
Eyebrowing the acute angles of wintertime’s sunbeams; 
Pierce the transient dappled patterns of the leaden glass windows.

Patterned with etched imprints of bas-relief.
Spit valved and painted radiators;
Maintain their foothold at the sills of each frame-glazed opening.

If it were not for the pipe-looped radiance of emissive vapors
Scalding hot waters sent into infinite tunnel and tubes;
To circulate amongst the plank boards as plunged within the mice-trekked framework plenums.


Encrusted chrome nipple-tipped dischargers
Shout out hisses of quieting pleadings;
Relieving spontaneous spews of steam.


These moments are beyond the realm of synchronicity: abrupt impulsive discharge.


On and into the winter’s challenge
Frigid winds splay vectors of air bursts; 
Alluding the flecking brittle-framed panes.

Blistering heat of the iron-worked boilers
Veiling heat ripples ever up to the ceiling crowned; 
Ruffled curtain’s sway animate the inhaled drafts drawn inward from outside.

This dang old place.


Steam heat.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by vivid dreams & a love of nostalgia)

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A Pale Pose

Pale Pose - WPress1










~ an EWK Syllabic Sequence Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/ Photo from Pixabay
// Image enhancements by Eric W. Killip

/// Syllabic structure of ‘A Pale Pose’:










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With Absolute Sincerity

Absolute Sincerity - WPress1

(a Work-In-Progress poem… A story of hope, living, loving, choices, and of sorrows.)

He’s educated, so dedicated
To see the legacy of his life
Become what is the best
As it can be.

His wife and he
Made the choice
To succeed as one, together
As much as they ever could perceive.

Then all the coming and going
Building a life
From as much as a wish
And often with so much as prayers, daily.

At times all spent
On matters of each day
Learning to love,
By giving as much as to receive.

Getting to those moments
Together and perhaps alone
To feel more, and often within
Regarding their trials of quite beliefs.

Mistakes they have had
Often not known until made
Once decisions done were so determined,
Testing doctrines of each other’s own needs.

From college to careers
Always concerning and with care
Heeding to their loved one’s curiosities;
They then knew their lives had become a becoming history.

He climbed to their goals
As best as he could ever
To be a modern day man was the plan,
Assuming all roles and as much as could be.

Apart more often than together,
Demands of time’s pushing them on ever more
Of tasks that had become
An ever evolved and distracting duty.

Somewhere in between the jobs and caffeine
They got busy as birds, and some bees.
The waiting wetted wand showed a certain + one!
Positive to have begun their very own family.

Up went the cries
Happiness and joy in their lives
Relatives waited to share.
Another branch was added to their family ancestry.

A home as they made
Maternal matters filled their minds.
How will he or she grow; and with whom,
Should tend to this pending nursery?

It can be said
With tears of joys
Some sadnesses would come
Feelings skewered through those maturing inadequacies.

Matters not what had been read
For all the love and hopes that were led
They walked right onto an infinite agony
Of this unborn soul they had yet to see.

Breaths held in
Heart lost in life’s quest
Anticipations own isolate aches
Gestation stillborn, was unfortunately not a misdiagnosis.

Years built on from before
Tumbled by this saddened story
Shored up these moments they stayed so in touch
Beyond their soon so sorrowed emotional purgatory.

The moral to this day
Is that the more we can stay
In love and caring, and in touch…
Matters more every day, what more can I say?

Do what matters; with absolute sincerity.”

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(always remember: every moment matters)

                                                              ~ Eric

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Enraptured Insomnia

Enraptured Insomnia

Nocturnal visions
Staring into dark shadows
Aroused awareness
Sleeping with eyes wide open
Enraptured insomnia.

~ an EWK Tanka Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by my vivid dream experiences)

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Posted in Poe'ems, Vivid & Lucid experiences

Bingo Betty

Bingo Betty - WPress1

Bingo Betty of Boise bets big.
Being a bigwig basement bingo Bouffant beauty;
Betty is busy beside her bingo board blotting bottle, Bible & Bic.

Betty’s bus beckons.
Ball bin bounces… “B4!” 
Betty blots a blank.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(an alliteration creation inspiration situation)

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Nocturnal Admissions

Nocturnal Admissions - WPress1


Lost in time

Sleeping in

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricubic is a poem composed of 3 beats per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

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Posted in Dreams, Poe'ems, Vivid & Lucid experiences

Bed by Nine

Bed by Nine - WPress1

We’re in bed by nine
Not what you think — We’re too old
Ain’t gettin’ any…
Not getting much younger, too
Wake these slumbering passions.

~ an EWK Tanka Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(poem of 5:7:5:7:7 verse beats, non-rhymed)

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It’s My Turn

It's My Turn - WPress1

Get in there
Clean that up
She would say.

My Mother
Had enough
Of the mess.

She loved me
To know that
It’s my turn.

~ an EWK Tricubic Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricubic is a poem composed of 3 beats per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)


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Red Fire Hydrant ~ Haiku poem

Red Fire Hydrant - WPress1

Red fire hydrant
Stands alone on the sidewalk
Will work for fire.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Nature’s Torture

Nature's Torture - WPress1

Too much to shovel
I need a Chiropractor
Nature’s torture test.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Historic Shadows ~ Haiku poem

Historic Shadows - WPress1

Noble building lit
Up at night: a landmark now
Historic shadows.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Snowstorm ~ an alliteration

Snowstorm - WPress1

Saturday’s snowstorm subsides as the sullen sunlight has surrendered.

Streets and sidewalks are smothered in serenely snow-flaked scenes.

Slumbering snowbound suburbanites snuggle in soft sheets; so surely sensing, that snow shovels and steadfastness should suffice to scoop snow into summits at Sunday’s sunrise.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a snowstorm, and a shovel)

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Horizontal Gravity

Horizontal Gravity - WPress1

        We lean this way
And that
        as counterweights
guiding our paths           along.         aside
                          Hands holding on
Maneuvering to the best line of travel
Speedily, Faster
                Feeling the press
                      our horizontal gravity.

      Touring the vistas
      Landmarks familiar to only us.        
      our vision in motion
                              blended perceptions
Racing to our mysterious destinations.
      Chasing the infinite sunset
                      of our unmapped


~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a road trip, and a daydream)

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Connection - WPress1


~ an EWK Quilted Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by living, and listening)

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Snowy Streets – an alliteration situation

Snowy Streets

Smiling sledders swarm a ‘Studebaker’ sedan to snatch a simple source of sliding
snowy streets.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(an alliteration creation inspiration situation)

// vintage photo source is unknown

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Posted in Poe'ems

Buried Forever

Below our Feet - WPress1

The ground lays down to eternal sleep:
buried forever, below our feet.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a hike in the forest)

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Snowing in Silence ~ Haiku poem

Snow Silence - WPress1

Snowing in silence
Blizzard arrives, nighttime comes
Whiteness in the dark.

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a snowstorm)

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Car Wash

Car Wash - WPress1

Keeping up appearances is such a matter.
Rivulets of soaps, soils and suds
Whisked and whirling buffing brush beaters
Patter sounding… thud, thud, swoosh and a swoosh and thud.

Neon’ish lights dictate modes of indication.
Steam hot water, soapy spritz sprayers
Single file slow, destination.
Can’t back out now: wash away these filthy layers.

Blow it dry, throw in the towel — done with this visit.
Hobbled hubs held by sturdy guide rails,
Enter one end and out the exit.
Cleaned and clear as it all seems; let’s spare the details.

~ an EWK Poe’em    ©2016 EWK

// Verse structure:

12 beat : A’ rhyme
9 beat :   B rhyme
9 beat :   A’ rhyme
12 beat : B rhyme

12 beat : C rhyme
9 beat :   D rhyme
9 beat :   C rhyme
12 beat : D rhyme

12 beat : E rhyme
9 beat :   F rhyme
9 beat :   E rhyme
12 beat : F rhyme

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Wake Up!

Wake Up Quilted Poe'em - EWK - WPress1~ an EWK Quilted Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

Good Morning!

How did you wake up this morning?

Deep sleep?  Sweet dreams?  

Or, “Let’s try that again.”? 

(inspired by a cup of coffee, and bacon)

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Linger Longer

Time to spice it up…

Lake - WPress1

Lips Lingering,
Lips, Like mine.
Lick Lightly.

Lips, Like yours.
Lusciously Lock,

Listening ears,
Lightly Linger.

Lapping Liquors,
Loosen up.

Late night.
Lakeside Lodge.
Listen to Loons Lament.

Low, errhhh.

Libido’s Lift.


Liking nuzzles, smell-
Ling, ‘estée Lauder’s Lotions.
Lacey, Luxurious Lady-ness.

Lilac incense Lit.
Losing Lingerie.
Lustered, Limber Limbs.

Lucky fingers,
Labia Lubricate.

Legs Link,
Laps Lunge…

Lessons within,

Loins Lift.


Lips Lingering.
Listening ears.
Late night.

Linger Longer…

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a daydream)

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