Category: Poetry Sketchbook

Barbara’s poetry sketches (many need work)

In the attic

We pack things into this keeper of castoffs, treasures fallen from favor, things no one wants to remember or forget. Letters and cards, photos of the loved, departed, clothes that no longer fit, traces of money earned, then lost or spent, yellowed magazines, books we’ll surely read again, and those no one will— manuscripts that didn’t sell. Seasons in a box come out to shine each winter from the back of the house’s mind, barelyLearn More

The naked truth

Truth doesn’t come in a pretty package tied up in wrapper and ribbon. Truth comes in a flash of insight, in words left unspoken. One might pray for truth yet never find it until ready, stretching, in a desperate, humble moment of surrender. Truth doesn’t enter the writer’s mind while she waits, pen poised to capture it. Truth comes in the dark of night, in a dream, or from the mouth of a child. ItLearn More

The unseen

When I’m invisible, I watch people go on living all around, unaware that I watch. Dropping their guard, they dance and flow and sing, full streams of clear water, bubbling. Only as long as I’m silent, apart, not a part of their lives, never entering their hearts. For when I begin to interact with people, and my cloak of invisibility falls away, I am revealed; and all that was real in them departs. People driftLearn More

Spring rain

A gray morning. First the quiet, then the quiet deepens. The only sound is drops pattering, dampening each surface, wetting each leaf. Spring rain begins with a sudden hush. Even the birds sit in awe. Copyright © 2005 Barbara W. Klaser

© 2019: Spirit Blooms | Easy Theme by: D5 Creation | Powered by: WordPress