Conjuring Creativity Since 1978

This space will consist of my poetry, thoughts, occasional musings, and short fiction. About Me: Extroverted introvert. Speculative Fiction Writer. Curriculum Designer. Editor. Educator. Poet.

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Dear August Night:

with your cloak of one

thousand brilliant stars, just who

are you hiding from?

#onthespothaiku

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Intuiting

beware the man whose

lies are like odes tangled in

a maze of scissors

senryu

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The Fallout (Senryu)

when the heart goes rogue

only the bile from bitter

rhapsody remains

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Autumn (a haiku)

Ever notice the

breeze bends differently once a

chill is sewn inside?

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Homeschooled (A Senryu)

your history: a

shallow grave of blood diamonds

tiaras and greed<

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Rainy August Evening Haiku

The plight of raindrops: gathered in sheets, then dried by breath of brilliant sun

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Shower (Haiku)

Loving is a veil of raindrops. A vow cast in the shadow of suns.

[beigehalo]

[briannewright]

Sand, under a 250x microscope

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I love sand!

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If you ever need a poetry fix.

[burntlikethesun]

[vablatsky]

In the last picture J.K. Rowling is like: “…and what epic seven-book fantasy saga did you write?”

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I'm a HUGE fan of HP!

[phycadelic-brekfest]

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LOVE

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1 Think of every word you know.

2 Churn them w/a mixer's metal thumbs.

3 Beat clumsy into uncomfortable questions.

4 Broil the pinch of ginger and shock to lump and paste

Then this, only this makes the perfect poem.

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Baltimore (repost)

Write a poem about the skyline of a city you've lived in or would like to live in.

Baltimore.

a geriatric metropolis.

mouth of broken bicuspids

supplanted in harbor and ravens.

this bruised sunset city

cesarean section of

skyscraper gripping clouds.

a crossroads where

jagged lip

meets broken glass.

their young use hope's

leftover bones

to pick their teeth with...

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A Tanka for the Black Men I Love

I'm concerned with how

you prepare your pain on a

gas flame, inside fat

back sizzle from grease jars. makes

for an unhealthy healing…

[neekaisweird]

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Haiku (inspired by Gowri K.)

Sometimes, only the

riff remains after jazz has

been sheared from his horn

© 2012, B. Sharise Moore