A Creative Spirit
She sits there working, in a room
Not unlike this room
The one where I write, or read
The light from the lamp
Throwing shadows across the page
As the words appear to fade
She creates illusions in verse
And truths in rhyme
Let us imagine she is a muse
Presiding over her art
Her poems, I will never know them
Though they are the ones I need most
Her inventive mind with a camera’s eye
Creates visions to tug at your soul
Let her have a loved one in the next room
Let the door be opened
And the one who sleeps there be well
Let her have the time, the patience
And the silence
Enough paper for mistakes
And the passion to
Continue to create
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Whispers of Summer
( a set in freestyle Tanka )
the open window
a wind with restless fingers
strumming a loose screen
storm clouds shake like a beast
as silvery scales of rain fall
gathering clouds
the moment before dark
a flash of lightning
as the frog jumps
into the sounds of rain
at the seashore, low tide
as daylight disappears
the sky went pink
and the ocean beneath it
blushed in response
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