Best Spool Poems

i'm just getting started
unraveling the threads
of this tattered lonely soul
sewn so long ago

apparition's crooked hands
grapples the rusty needle
as she unsteadily threads the eye
...flashback to childhood...

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As dogs pant in sweltering humid air,
sweat drops morph into dewdrops as night cools.
Summer's sunshine smiles are no longer there,
for the children have returned to...

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From here to wherever, I'll follow a yard sale sign,
it's a past time endeavor, for my collective state of mind,
I may buy some furniture, or...

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The spool of twine grows thicker
with the winding up of days,
the garden vines, yellowed, hug the ground;
the air, intoxicated with over ripened fruit,
grows loud with...

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Sagan grins from a Pale Blue Dot
As LCROSS finds water in Cabeus.
Is Su Shih's bright moon finally told --
Echoed by Dickinson's moon of gold?

Did Armstrong...

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A slow red sun cut through the soft gray sky,
To warm my eyes with layered painted light.
Birds shadows glide on the wind's goodbye.
Their fragile wings...

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The Air of Indifference


Tree limbs grasped hungrily at idle air
hawks, with weary wings, shared calms despair,
sailors, deafened, by the muted swell
motionless the listless sails froze...

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The World Unknown to me

Let me write of things I do not know
underneath the folds of nothing
beneath a fake moon's glow
I'll write about my pretend...

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Wise Enough to Know

I'm wise enough 
to know what I don't know
I think fast but my brain's slow
rivers of thought
cause my mind to flow
Still it...

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I opened the sewing basket, letting my eyes and hands run over the tools she had used—the scissors, the darning egg, the pins and pincushion,...

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Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking...

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And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp...

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For what is love
when lust, now cool,
sits idly in a nested spool?

What fuels the flame
banks, tends the fire,
ignites the coolness of desire?

When looks can scorch
a...

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A free verse done in a quatern form  (1st line moves to each stanza but  is here, I have more syllables in each...

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I open the sewing basket, letting my eyes and hands run over the tools she had used—the scissors, the darning egg, the pins and pincushion,...

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