Bird Seed--Twitter Poems

Tweetspeak Poetry, the fullsome webspace curated by the gifted LL Barkat, was borne out of Twitter poems, concise lines of poetry confined to 140 spaces.  I only attempted this beginning last Spring and finished my last poem in the Fall. 

Many of these lines are responses to photo prompts ('Starry Night' and so on), others just me trying to wrap words around my life.

It's way too much fun--you should try it.

~~~~~~

Apr 29

Jump rope skipping

wide door open

fragrance wafting

blue sky calling

children laughing

Spring kinda day.

Apr 21 (After Easter)

The day is empty tomb new

wide open and blazing white

with possibilities.

 Apr 14

Here's to all the women walking busward

bags in hand, kids in care,

hard work and hope on the horizon.

Apr 1

Grey girders gash against the crowded sky,

filling my birds eye blue view

with dollar signs

on a horizon of diminishing returns.

Mar 26

Spring...death come to life,

beauty buried in bark

against a blue sky,

dreaming of green

March 23^rd

Trapped in educationese

translating myself out of a corner,

I bring the child with me

but you'd rather bury us with words.

March 19^th

When the flowers waltzed

back into the room

the darkness danced away.

March 18^th

Ochre red feather duster

against a gray cotton sky.

Soft Spring surging.

March 16^th

Reading forsythia,

preface to Spring,

 telling me there's more to come.

March 14^th

Why the swirling curling

colors of sky?

Was Vincent looking for North

and lost his star?

Aug. 5

Noisy books calling 'Read me!'

I grab each spine & confine them

to their basket-y space

To Get Something Done.

I hear whispers still...

Sep 24

The sound of happy

is rain falling,

dropping,

tapping

tipping the watery scales

leaf-wise on this

quiet, shushing morning.

(for my son's birthday)

What the Birds Say-A Winter Poem

You could say
(and you would be correct)
the mottled, colorless sky
leaves one bereft of brightness
this time of year.

You could say (see above)
the empty, lifeless branches
are dull, dormant gray/brown
slender swords against
said mottled sky.
You could say (well, you know) 
there's little beauty 
in such poor adornment,
small pleasure in the drab and drear view.

On the other hand, consider~
this backdrop reveals the birds best,
awakens ones eyes to their
blazing joy
as they dive into their days
zooming messages across the sky
and voicing these words
with their flying song,
"Faithful, faithful, faithful."
~~~~~~~~~
I'm beginning to think Winter is my favorite season as I watch the birds.  Merry Christmas!

Show and Tell

Write the world a story
--one of your very own--
with a beginning like no other.
Paint a picture only
you can paint
with brushes dipped in days
and nights of  liquid life
when it pools and puddles.
Illustrate the middle and 
tell us how it is,
with all the color, the light,
the dark and all the in between.
Catch the drips and let them dry,
make the most of the mistakes.
The last of the story is yet to come,
awaiting a frame
and at last the view 
as we step back and behold 
the work of art
that is your life and The Artist's
signature which says,
'The End'.
~~~~~

This poem was inspired by a note on my daughter's refrigerator which I snapped during our recent 11 hour painting marathon at her house.