Writing in the Dark

HiddenInside the cascading tressesof a willow.Sunbeams lighting up moteslike fairy dust.Insatiable longingto capture the moment.By telling?By painting?By pen.***dabbling in poetry to instigate creativity***Of all the people....poetry exercisesOf all the people in the worldI'm glad that I can write,So I can vent upon my pageAnd stay up half the night.
Of all the people in the worldI'm glad that I am Eve.Named for the oneWho ate the fruit,And not a girl named Bev.(Didn't rhyme, you say? Ahh, that's because my name is not pronounced with a hard "E" but a short vowel"e".)***On a trip to King's Landing one day,To shoot turkeys we were asked to payThree dollars a shotTo take home in a pot.'Til I get one, I'll just have to stay.(Can you guess what we did while we were away these past two weeks? Yup. King's Landing-a historical settlement.)***Sensory ExerciseI am a questing writer.I hear voices in my head.I see places yet to be,never before read.I taste a scrumptious word or two,Dip pen into my heart.I smell the fear of paths unknownBut I plunge on ahead.I***StrandedLend me the wings of a dictionaryTo release me.Unshackle meFrom the inadequacyof my literacy.***Friends, Romans, CountrymenLend me your synonyms.***To make a synonym it takesOne writerStuck.One ideaBlurred.And a pen to record it.***Words.Evasive as sleepTransient as a cat.***Besottedwith paperLinedGraphedWhite or colored.Notebooks, SketchpadsSpiral bound and covered.***Asparagus.Spear head,Fern fractal.Sauteed with butter.Delicious art.***Peace isA distant mower.The cicada's droneAnd hot chocolatedrunk alone.***Senses Exercise 2 Smell of VarnishGreying wood trapped in time,Sawdust and paints rejected.Water droplets spread so thinAnd gelled upon this surface. Taste of Candy AppleAlmost crunchyCaramelSweet and sour mix.Glued teethclamped together.Discarded apple bits. Look of a Compost HeapSpotted brownBanana peel.Apples too crabby to eat.Worm's delight. Lumpety clodsBumpety sod.Soils sinking beneath your feet.Buried treasure. Rich loamLiving vine.Leaves flop like elephant ears.Pumpkin pie. The Feel of an Old QuiltCool surface of a brisk fall breeze,Inside a cushion of snow.Snappy fall leavesPatched together withthreads of times long ago. ***For my daughter. While mending her purple teddy bear she sleeps with. My Teddy BearDefuzzedLike a patchy molting rabbit. Yellowed with ageLike Grandpa's coffee stained teeth. As squeezed out of shapeAs an overripe, unskinned bananaIn the hands of a little boy.***