Short Flurried Poems

a blizzard
flurried fractured flakes
blinded blows...

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I whisper to the winter moon
in dialects of falling snow
the lyrics of my flurried rune.

I whisper to the winter moon
my wish for spring with blossoms strewn
piano and adagio.

I whisper to the winter moon
in dialects of falling snow....

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fragile dawn   
summer bravado cracks
       splits the sky 

     duck flats freeze
flurried white fills footsteps
        frail adieu

          fragile dusk
ready kindling stacked strong
          storm rages


V Anderson-Throop  2014
Valdez, Alaska...

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Great is your power,
	higher than lofty mountain;
your heart my Lord,
	the font of living fountain.

From your canopy, 
	pitched at four corners love pours,
torrents of flakes
	on flurried faces and faint hearts.

Great is the Lover,
	a desert river never 
ceasing to water
	pallid dry earth with rain.



© 2014...

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Blow after blow lead to puddles of blood,
Mixed in with broken glass, perspiration and mud.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!", comes energized noise,
And from the death match rises a boy.
As flurried fists fly faster than light,
His eyes are fire and his heart is ice.
Would there be, or could there be, a fatal blow?
Neither the crowd nor the young one knows....

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The chaotic sounds of 
a conflicted emerging thought
pushed and pulled 
Impending anguish is wrought
Words jigsaw a
jagged puzzle
Likened a bursting hose with 
A busted nozzle
Firing out in a rushed frenzy
No time for sorting beginning from ending
Hoping to re-ingest 
as it spews out a flurried mess
Too late as it flows past cheeks
Knowing instantly the havoc it reeks ......

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The mountains surround me, all shades of green
The sun shines upon them, as beauty moves, I’ve seen
         --- Shadows dancing on the hillside ---
          --- Holding so many places to hide ---
There is solitude there, away from the busy streets
Where traffic is flurried, or backed up where it meets
The mountain scenes, bring peaceful pleasure to view
Every season, from greens, multi-colors, white, to blue

Heidi Sands

9/2/17...

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A beauty danced beneath pale moonlight,
While hypnotic song flurried on the breeze,
Distant, the voices tell of magic’s flight,
A heart is caught with such apparent ease,
And leads the self into its deathly plight.

A soul lies dying within grasping flame,
Confusion’s white heat burning at nerve tips,
Invisible fires bring the pain just the same,
The murderous hold a vice like grip,
And jealousy is her invidious name.






Form: Sicilian Quintains...

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We kids sled
past the home of so-long-ago.
We kids wear
snow-black boots and warm
mittens. We kids sled,
on a cold sunny day,
across the Vale’s backyard;
    Old-timers let
    us kids sled
through flurried laughter,
cheeks frozen-red,
and out all day,
     it seemed.
What was Mom doing,
I wonder? I wish I could
dust off the window
     and see her
and get a tear in my eye.
The teardrop shape is frozen
in time. We kids sled
without a care in the world.


...

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