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Bonsai

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Poetic Lines

commonly subdued thoughts with feelings are inscribed in poetic lines ~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em ©2017 EWK

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To the Point ~ Haiku

A new Photo Haiku poem. (a work-in-progress) The context here is intentionally heavy with ‘fusoku-furi’, or Japanese essense of metaphoric distancing; #1✔ …And syllabic structure of and respective of 5:7:5 phrasing (as in English); #2✔ …And there is a symbolic

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Words that Cry

Words that cry for me Tear stained in poetic verse The rhymes of my life. ~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em ©2017 EWK

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Waxing Poetic

waxing poetic feelings softened as written hard emotions drip ~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em ©2017 EWK

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Discover her Story

She was like a book Found, Held deep within Antiqued parchments Inks impressed Illuminated scripts. Stories authored Expressive, And finely bound With gilded accents Embossed with filigrees Dignified exquisiteness. So subtlety Tinged, Self published By her own discretion Chapters enumerated

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If I must Die

If I must die With my final verse In hand Then let it be A seed Of inspiration To other minds Of youthful vigor Whom might read Of my life And energies Spent For if I be known Nevermore Another

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Shadows of My Life

• I have written my thoughts.       Often as a feeling       Inspired by the urge of subtle meanings To give life to words. After living and then soon afterwards.       Will you sort through       Stuff that holds certain

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Yo. Read some Poe.

Yo. Read some Poe. Does anyone really read Poetry anymore? We amp-up all info-rushed in blinking blurs of tapping texts of obscured austerities upon our digitized screens. What of the classics, the poets of all-time? Whose stage-showed verbiage taught the

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Breathe Words

I breathe words. To read is to inhale. To write is to exhale. Gone are the days, of holding my breath. ~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Story of My Life

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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Satin Sheets

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

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RGB

RGB Primary 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

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I Sing the Volcano Electric (Poetic)

‘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) 1 I sing the volcano electric, These crowded thoughts I love,

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My World Here

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

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Sunny Sides ~ a poem of Springtime

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.

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A Grecian Groove

Scenic ship slot. Carefully crossing the confining Corinth Canal. Smooth cruise through 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

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Dragonfly

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

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Cozy Cabin

cozy cabin. snuggled in sheets of crystalline dew. wooded wonder. stiffened boughs of frosted grasp enclosing. secluded silence. beneath hushed respires of vapors exhalation. ~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK (inspired by a daydream & a snowstorm)

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Steam Heat

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

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With Absolute Sincerity

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

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To Write or Not to Write?

To write or not to write?… Could that be a question? To write is… To express a way of looking at the world. To write is… To share your own point of view. To write is… To give a piece

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Never Meaning to Send

♪♪♪ “Letters I’ve written, Never meaning to send. Beauty I’d always missed With these eyes before, Just what the truth is I can’t say anymore.” … ♪♪♪ ~~~ I can recall many letters I’ve written, never meaning to send… I

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An Inspiration Anticipation Alliteration

Pen and paper, patiently poised… pending penning of potential poetic publications; pertaining to periodic perking of perceptive prose and purposes. ~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2015 EWK

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Poetry is a Building

If I could write to build you a landmark; I would write you a poem. Made of brick, and steel and stones. Something proud and tall, on the corner of your life. So that you may enter and see my

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My Story

The path of an eye. A flick of a tongue. A turn of a phrase, And so it is done. Another page is written. For others to read. From my heart to theirs’, My story; to believe. ~ an EWK

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