ive replaced trees with mountains and ponds with lakes
but they all turn green at some point in the year.
a maple tree rounds at the top, a pine points upwards.
its not as hard to visit anymore,
I only tear up when i say goodbye and kiss the roads with no yellow lines.
finding my footing took two decades and i still trip over nothing,
landing in the under painting of a new england landscape—
the type frost would write about, not dickinson.
Wednesday, October 1, 2025
poemtober day 1- landscape
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christmas eve journal poem
[tried to write a poem in 5 minutes, this is what i came up with. i will prob go thru my journal andpolish some old poems to post, but this...
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Her biggest fear is glass, broken or not, So she puts a lightbulb in her mouth Knowing in her mind that it won't fit and would shatter ...
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They're taking my money and giving it to someone else. Not that I make all that much in the first place I just Wish that I could keep th...
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Just like Jesus, I was born in a stable. My horse mother birthed me onto a bale of hay, my Father held her hooves like the good husband He w...
i like this a lot you captured subtle differences in new england landscapes really well
ReplyDeleteyeah this is fire & ily - lunchbox
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