It bubbles up,this poetry;
I seem to have no choice.
The daily tide of words
slides in and out unnoticed,
but the bubbles left behind
keep popping into my head
and onto the page,
bursting with colors and flavors;
with seeking, and with love,
with hopes and worries, bright, and dark --
curved surfaces,
reflecting all that is, or that could be.
* * *
3 comments:
Yes, this is just what it feels like. Thank you, Diane.
And a doubling of yep for this one.
Interesting image, too.
I love these last two poems you've written. Keep on bubblin' - your words bring a deep, visceral, "oh yeah" to me!
xoxo
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