I struggle with calling this poetry. I educated with the idea it is ok to abandon form in writing once you have learned it. Yet I have learned no form thoroughly, my meter is wrong for Haiku, and is the word even meter. Hmmm.
Today I thin of them as statements of consciousness (socs for plural) I suppose because it amuses me to do so. And it might absolve me of claiming this is poetry if it isn't. Suppose I could equally call it word play.
10.28
help me find the right road
i seek the sky path
where our souls may meet
*******
each journey is so rich
dipped in karmic stew
may we honor rhe feast
*******
harmonize your heart
truth sits waiting
open the cosmic chest
10.29
bow to the moment
working our way through
rest in the opening
*******
story pictures
mind fill
clutter silence
10.30
come play, over here
the page beckons
scrawls become words
*******
how does silence arrive
how does it pick its way through
how does it clear all the words
*******
thank you self
whirling around
a cental core
10.31
whispering light
playing around the edges
just like random thoughts
*******
sticking close to center
venturing to the familiar
only to find the unique
*******
each moment crystallizes
it is only itself forever
impressions each new
11.01
maple sugar
soft lights
gramma's oven
*******
contemplation
rings of thought
settling into heart pond
*******
carved out of inner space
pockets of time
intertwined dimensions
*******
wandering into time
curious paths to unfold
moments curving into each other
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