Monday morning…
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morning
Things I thought about while drinking coffee (a poem)
Morning thoughts…
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On a Saturday morning in 2016 (a poem)
A warm, sunny day in Seattle today. So, naturally (?), I turn to introspection…
National Poetry Writing Month, Day #7
Today’s napowrimo.net prompt is to write a tritina. A tritina consists of three three-line stanzas plus a concluding line: each stanza contains three ‘end words’, appearing in the order ABC—CAB—BCA; all three words appear in the concluding line. My poem examines the consequences of having a brownie, a 13.7-oz Vanilla Frappuccino®, and a regular coffee first thing in the morning…
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The morning after headaches and explosions in the night (A poem)
Back to the pantoum. The ‘explosions’ part of the title refers to last night’s gas explosion in Seattle’s Greenwood neighborhood. One of the businesses destroyed in the explosion was Neptune Coffee, the first place I ever read any of my writing in public (a short story, in late 2013). The Couth Buzzard, where I regularly participate in a weekly open mic, is across the street and one block south; their storefront windows were shattered.
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Thinking spring must be almost here because I want to hear happy music this morning instead of sad songs and moody tunes (A poem)
Listening to Laura Nyro and The Style Council this morning—two sure signs that spring is about to arrive…
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A morning poem (a poem)
The January 16th prompt in The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice, by Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano, is to come up with a list of ten words each about oil and snow, then to alternate a word from the two lists in each line of a poem until all the words have been used. My snow words were granule, icy, angels, crystalline, blanket, powder, pack, flurry, blizzard, and flake; my oil words were fuel, golden, stain, fluid, smooth, slick, viscous, slip, flammable, and commodity.
State of Mind—December 16, 1992 (A poem)
This morning, I have been listening to a mixtape I made in December of 1992…
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Happy Thanksgiving (A poem)
True story…
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The sound of bells (A poem)
At the apartment complex where I live, recorded bells sound every half-hour from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. I wrote this in the morning, before the first bells…
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