poetic abstractions

We can use a different tag until they lift the ban. I’ve checked the tag, and it is working. Please use #wc-writerscreed for now.

It also won’t let you see our blog, though we’re still here! If you search for us with writerscreed, it won’t let you find us as we’re terribly risqué, apparently:/ HOWEVER, when I typed in writersc and stopped, I was able to see our blog.

Each poet tagged writes the next two lines of the poem using one of these prompts:

heartbeat, thunder, midnight, echo, mournful, softly, wistful, love, whisper, eternal, notes, voice, rain, starlight, written

then tags another poet. (If you’re too busy, just repost with ‘pass’ and tag another poet) Poem is done when all the words are used!

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

heartbeat, thunder, midnight, echo, mournful, softly, wistful, love, whisper, eternal, notes, voice, rain, starlight, written

then tags another poet. (If you’re too busy, just repost with ‘pass’ and tag another poet) Poem is done when all the words are used!

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once  wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls   with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once 

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls  

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

At midnight, I saunter out on the dew-laced grass,

hoping some starlight will scatter and form a semblance of you.

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

At midnight, I saunter out on the dew-laced grass,

hoping some starlight will scatter and form a semblance of you.

& at early bright, your words rain on me

as the faces of our amour drape the dawn.

_____________

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

At midnight, I saunter out on the dew-laced grass,

hoping some starlight will scatter and form a semblance of you.

& at early bright, your words rain on me

as the faces of our amour drape the dawn.

Peering into the distance, hearing the future cheers of another year arriving softly

I raise a toast without a glass; Here’s to us and what might have been.

———————

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

At midnight, I saunter out on the dew-laced grass,

hoping some starlight will scatter and form a semblance of you.

& at early bright, your words rain on me

as the faces of our amour drape the dawn.

Peering into the distance, hearing the future cheers of another year arriving softly

I raise a toast without a glass; Here’s to us and what might have been.

It’s time to silence the voice that once longed for you,

To cherish the beauty of horizon before me, 

———————

sitting in the garage,  its banged metal door lifted beyond my reach.

georgia heat clinging to skin, beads of sweat competing. an occasional breeze from the east, making such moments just bearable…

holding me to my seat, stopping me from retreating, into the kitchen  where  the heat still hangs upon our limbs. but, a minute spent by an open fridge  or stretched across tile  would release the august grip.

this ritual, is one I remember. the disdain for humid heat, with the smell of black wax coating my nostrils  until laced boots mirrored flush faces.

these were precious hours we would spend. until- duty would call you in combat greens.