Dawn on spider silk—
A wren's wing brushes one strand,
pearls get rearranged—
web keeps its geometry,
only the dewdrops have gone.
Sea mists on a pane.
A beam of sunlight sneaks through
opening the view
The room fills with fresh insight
the glass was never quite touched.
Moonlight falls on pond.
A reed bends and flits a leaf
from the water's skin.
The stars' reflections remain
unruffled by the ripples.
A loose silver hair
caught upon a jacket sleeve—
deft fingers pause, then
borrow it for half a breath
before the mind can claim it.
A word almost said.
Hangs sharp between two old friends.
A teacup is poured.
steam skims anger flecks aside,
while a spoon stirs the tea leaves.
Mother's soft fingers.
Lift a lash from a boy's cheek—
he never looks up.
A small kindness passes by
unnoticed by either eye.
Sat by the bedside.
She loosens his wedding ring
twists it part aside.
The pale band beneath remains—
pale skin bands outlast the gold.
When last light thins out,
even the gentlest touch fails
to lift what's worn thin—
Outside, moonlight skims the roof;
bounces, flits, and flies away.
Skim this Substack poem
Three lines at a time
Catch every other word or five
Don’t notice if it rhymes
Coast through just the keywords
Or read only the start
If you don’t hate it by the second verse
It might be worth a heart <3
It doesn’t need your full attention
There are other posts to view
For opening this at all
I’m appreciative of you
Gloss over this bit and the next
Glide straight down to the end
Skip the bit about subscribing
Or restacking for a friend
Bounce, scan, read, skip
Bianca’s waffling on
This verse, at the very least
I expect will be forgone
If you make it to these final lines
What dedication you’ve applied!
You, my friend, are a real one
Thanks for joining me for the ride
A wet mist wraps itself around my shoulders
like a damp bath towel:
while my spine shudders at its touch.
A skim-milk sky retains a bluish tinge
as a yellow sun swims behind a reef of clouds
absorbing its light like a thirsty sponge.
And I see my world through a grey lens
that distorts my vision;
like I'm wearing the wrong prescription glasses.
Both sky and land don sullied shades of grey:
as if Autumn's heart were pierced,
and its vibrant colors, all bled away.
Winter winds, laden with flakes of snow,
scatter scarlet, gold, orange, and crimson leaves:
sweeping them under a carpet of white on white,
seemingly overnight.
My eyes are leaking more,
my throat is kind of sore,
my nose is runny
like a captured and released, single witness
that knows of the buildup.
I can’t take it anymore.
From me breathing hard
to this sneezing, sinus war.
I only had the hiccups, HICCUP.
Now I got to pick up
prescriptions for my prescription,
in my Nissan, violet pick-up
while strung on frequent violent, HICCUPs.
Next time I’ll read the fine print
before the theatre violin blends to…string along with my,
HICCUP, HICCUP, HICCUPs.
Oh boy, HICCUP.
2/04/18 “Shoulda read the fine print – 2” contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
They gave me an ocean.
Miles long and centuries wide,
Cerulean, cyan, sapphire and sky,
With a coldness so bitter,
And a sound so sweet
They gave me an ocean.
With fresh tears in the salt,
And a dance on the waves,
Glass messages adrift,
They gave me an ocean,
But I wrote the vessel,
To the edge of a void,
Seeking new beginnings,
They gave me an ocean,
I sail a rowing boat.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.