My newest adventure is underway. It has lead me to take up residency in a new blog,
Like the Feathers of an Arrow (affectionately known as LFA).

...don't open...don't throw away... is not disappearing completely (not yet),
but postings here will be limited.
Showing posts with label ~thursday rally. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ~thursday rally. Show all posts

Monday, March 7, 2011

1 perfectly imperfect


Is there perfection
in every flower that blooms
opening with love?
You are my precious flower,
so perfectly imperfect.






in January of this year, i received an invitation to participate in Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck, which is held on Mondays.  interestingly enough, it was shortly after i came across them in another's (who i can no longer remember) blog.  i jumped in feet first on 1/11/11 with 'winds of change'.  within the same week, i found myself also partaking in Thursday Poets Rally (week 37).  since, i have participated in seven potlucks and rally week 38. 

what i have found most enjoyable, beyond the added inspiration, is reading other poets' works.  i have seen some wonderful talent that has truly spoken to me and love the opportunity to see their take on the same theme.  i have also found that joining these two events has helped me to fulfill a new year's rule and brave the stress induces task of writing and leaving comments (something i have expressed in the past as being excruciatingly hard for me). 

so i'd like to take this opportunity to thank Jingle for inviting me to participate as well as those wonderful writers out there who bravely share their works, thoughts and ideas. 



now comes the next to impossible part...nominating one individual for the You are a Perfect Poet Award...did i mention i'm horrible at making decisions...hmmm...



Friday, February 18, 2011

14 Writing Unmasked

Writing Unmasked
(by rmp, that's me)
no one sees me
not the real me
how could they
i keep her hidden
so well hidden i
sometimes can't see her

some may try to uncover
try to see what lies within
but i conceal her behind a mask
one that looks delicate and fragile
but is forged in iron, steel, and diamond
so well have i worn it
sometimes i forget she lay beneath

but she's there
lying in wait
knowing she'll be freed
for short stints at a time
to speak a truth only she knows
in the only way she knows how
so well she does write
sometimes the world gets a glimpse of me



written for Thursday Poets Rally...yes, i realize it is not thursday...but i've never been very good at deadlines...