Found Poetry: The Value of Old Notebooks

Her blood – tar treacle.

A pump runs on mute,

enchurned in inner workings,

warped in yearnings

glossy-small or rough-large.

 

Where do the butterflies of summer alight?

Why do we always mention their gossamer twinkle

and do nothing about it?

When will it be my turn?

 

The moment  passed.

So long ago.

 

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Found Poetry: The Value of Old Notebooks”

  1. Such lovely and fragile moments, captured in old notebooks. Sadly I don’t have my old notebooks anymore. Good to see you and hope to see you during our 5th anniversary celebration, from July 18-22, 2016.

Do share your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s