Shine

September 1, 2015 at 1:00 pm | Posted in Art Studio, Poetry | Leave a comment
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 Shine by Joan Desmond

© Joan Desmond, Shine.

Only

 

Within a universe

of a trillion stars

I breathe, therefore I am

I think, I’m a thinker

I love, I’m a lover

I walk, I’m a walker

I stumble

I fall

I rise

 

Within a universe

of a trillion stars

I sing, I’m a singer

I dance, I’m a dancer

I drum, I’m a drummer

I paint, I’m a painter

I stumble

I fall

again I rise

 

Only

the soul knows

when I started

where I traveled

how I came

to this

brief twinkle

Within a universe

of a trillion stars

 

-Joan Desmond 2015

Are You Well Versed?

April 15, 2013 at 10:23 am | Posted in Art Studio, Poetry | Leave a comment
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Microscopic by Joan Desmond 2013

©2013, Joan Desmond, Microscopic.

We are halfway through National Poetry Month, which highlights this literary form. See also April Is Poetry Month. So have a go at it. Pull out that anthology. Read some words, maybe craft some rhyme, and verse up your month.

The wind blows the dirt

It flies in furtively

through window screens

disguised as fresh air

it scurries

over furniture

hides

under couches

I chase it down

scoop it up

and throw it

in the can

Then, once a week

it is tranported

isolated

in the back

of a white truck

twenty-five miles

or so

I take it to the dump

release it

into the landfill

and there

the wind blows the dirt

The Wind Blows the Dirt by Joan Desmond 2013

April Is Poetry Month!

April 11, 2012 at 10:12 pm | Posted in Considering Ideas, Poetry | 1 Comment
Tags: , , , ,

Last month, March, was Youth Art Month. The Council for Art education thought of that. This month, April, is Poetry Month. Apparently this was initiated by the Academy of American Poets. It’s nice to know these things. I’m game for anything that spotlights and awakens the various creative muses. For poetry month I’ve been spurred by two friends and their insistent daily output so I’m at the keyboard composing Day Poems, that is, something every day, mostly, to keep up.

I’m sharing two poems-one old, one new, the first kind of cheeky, fun and an old favorite, the second one reflective.  Let me know what you think.

Squishy white bread

Squishy white bread

is not good for me

but feels fine sandwiched in my fingers

especially with sticky peanut butter

wedged into the fold of it

next to some real butter

not good either

So full of Wonder when I was nine

at such a find

coming from Holland

with the heavy whole wheats

and dark hearty ryes

one piece would fortify all day

In Cincinnati it took 8 slices

of the white stuff

to weigh down the stomach

But what squeezy fun

those white bread balls for creek fishing

or sculpted into ammo

to lob at the American kids.

Joan Desmond 2/24/00
——————————————————-
Evolution

Imagine

an endless space

and that your fingers

can touch infinite length

Visualize each possible answer

knowing your mind

can answer all questions

Think of every conceivable color

understanding their ultimate harmony

Hear all possible sounds

familiar with each vibration

Consider every possible number

as you

remember all the sequences

and that this is your destiny

this is who you really are

endless, infinite

touching forever and all

so much more than

“me, me, me” and “I”

Joan Desmond 4/11/12

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