What Shape is This?

Spring will come; knowing this grows hope in winter, A grass under these thin drifts. Always spring has come with Her solace, Her winged sky her chick-a-dee in the willow. But comes a Spring with famine gathered in the gray skirts of this thin snow– Comes round at last, Her dark birds gyring a desert … Continue reading What Shape is This? →

Watching for the Vagrant

the vast winter sky with its few ragged geese Vs silent of “chick-a-dee”

Between Marble Sky/and

Between marble sky and snow hissing over snow— wind-ragged magpie

Drabble posts another WriteLee original

Lee Robison's poem "They Wheel him Out," which first appeared here on Writlee.com has just been posted on Drabble (They Wheel Him out). We really like the illustration Drabble selected for this poem. Thanks

“Out, Out,” by Robert Frost

Perhaps, not so oddly, the first thing the word "lumber" prompted to me is the dark poem "Out, Out" by Robert Frost. It can be found on the "Poets.Org" website at: https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/out-out– I could/might also post this in response to the Word of The Day Challenge, immature, though the narrative is not about an "immature" … Continue reading “Out, Out,” by Robert Frost →

They Wheel Him Out Doors

They wheel him out doors, lock wheels. The old dog brings a stick. He heaves it from his seat— a wheelchair in wanlight— Sun through empty branches. Days past he’d fetch the stick again. He leans down, strokes the wiry nape— Posted in response to Ragtag Community Word of the Day play.

Wind Whine in Willow and Wire

wind whine through willow and wire hiss of snow past yellow grass-- overture

Drabble Publishes Another Writelee.com Poem

poetry

“Cynosure” Fumbles a Masterpiece

Eric Studdard was working on his three hundred and twenty-third masterpiece. This one would be a winner for sure. He had spent the better part of an hour on it and the poem was currently two hundred and ninety-seven words long, with thirty-one lines and seven and ¾ completed verses. It was composed along the … Continue reading “Cynosure” Fumbles a Masterpiece →

For Student Poet Dreaming of Inspiration

She’s no mealymouth art, that damned mother of wordbirth— nothing fickle about that old tart. Honest as the odor of earth true as you in all your affairs, she is nothing—only your worth. How you carry her loamy dares to amend the alter altar you’ve built of your damaged despair will tell only the soily … Continue reading For Student Poet Dreaming of Inspiration →