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Carol Fillmore Poem
A bazillion stars twinkle in the night
sky; pinpoints on black velvet, perfect
jewels created by the universe
for us to gaze upon in wonderment.
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
In the quietude of morning, I write
rise early, pen in hand - a rite
though words sometimes stick and lodge there
in a brain cell - so stubborn!
Scribble some nonsense words
jumpstart free flowing
thoughts to appear
on paper
very
soon.
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2010
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Carol Fillmore Poem
peach clouds feathery
mare's tails flicked across the dusk
sky randomly there.
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2010
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Carol Fillmore Poem
Apple pie, fresh from the oven
cools on a rack, whiffs of cinnamon-nutmeg
aroma rise through the pastry vent
then drifts out through
the kitchen window opened an inch or so
mingling with a hint of moulder on the breeze.
The apple peelings still lay on newspapers
on the counter, deep crimsons mottled with yellow, green
mirror fall leaves of brilliant hues.
Is this a coincidence? Perhaps - but perhaps not -
possibly nature intends apples such colours
as a reminder autumn is close at hand.
The pastry, free-formed into an irregular shape,
rustic, like nature. Trees, some now partially stripped
of leaves, expose gnarled limbs twisting and turning
madly off in all directions. Showing its imperfections
yet is beautiful in its own way
silhouetted against an October deep azure sky.
Reminiscences of baking apple pie
snapshots in an album in the mind's eye
retrieving them, recollecting that day will sustain
when December's snowflakes flutter about,
when January's winds wail and
when February's blizzards drift high against the doors
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2015
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Carol Fillmore Poem
There was an old camel from Bahrain
who sought adventures far off in Spain.
He made plans to sightsee
and ordered cups of tea
then danced the flamenco on the plane.
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
waves of chills within
achoo achoo cough cough cough
keep tissues handy
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
walkway to the stars
kaleidoscope nebula
milky way beckons
by Carol Fillmore
for Rick Parise's contest: Haiku Beyond (Nature Only)
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
Frost feathers pattern
the windowpane in this room.
a cold night ahead.
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
R ascal with a twinkle in his dark-ringed eye
A morous feeling frisky under a full moon's light
C at strolled by- her voluptuous tail swishing to and fro
C oy glances by feline big blues
O vert flirting, then invited her to dine
O pulent feast of restaurant scraps made her swoon...
N uptials next - rascal raccoon carried her over the threshold of their new home.
for "Tell Me About It" contest
sponsored by Francine Roberts
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2011
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Carol Fillmore Poem
Don't much like poetry
just can't see what purpose
poems are supposed to serve.
Why all the hype
about similies and metaphors
and iambic pentameter?
Or trying to rhyme
each and every cursed line
to describe an object
or a place or action
in flowery descriptive words
doesn't seem very realistic,
just overly idealistic.
It is quite an ordeal,
can't begin to express
just how I feel
having to compose
a poem that to me
just doesn't have a purpose!
A little explanation about this! Haven't suddenly turned anti-poetry ... This was the very
first poem written by me, at university for a writing course. At the time, I was miffed at
having to write a poem, something I despised at the time. Had no idea what to write, even
after a week, and with just a few hours to spare, finally came up with this poem...about
hating poetry. It is so hilarious to find myself many years later, writing poetry...and loving it!
Copyright © Carol Fillmore | Year Posted 2010
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