A few years ago, I really enjoyed blogging. So many things have happened since then. Several road trips in the corvette have hap.

Poetry and Prose by Annette Mickelson. Has faded blue paint chipped, scratched, caked with clods of dried dirt. - wobbles on one wheel heavy with burgundy-brown bricks; plastic packs of perky pansies. - holds memories of bright blue days spilling laughing children on the ground. The Lone and Level Sands. The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Bodies can bruise, stagger,. And tilt with a breeze. Psyches can hamper, crack,. And smile with an angle. Written for The Sunday Whirl. Using the twelve words pictured above. I do enjoy the creative challenge of writing a poem with random words. Happy Sunday! July 12, 2015. That you alone decide to cast.

My smile staggers and tilts. My arms forever lost and perpetual. I lie in bed and the horizon closes. Searching for what we have and. What we cannot hold onto. My hands make circles; mercy and love. A night astray with peaceful air. Only love and pain can rest.

Outpourings and such, some forget-me-nots. So Aurora, an engine for new growth? Zabani, Persephone Awakening. So she tended to the living dead.

But this one wanted to be share in the end. To take the lead in being. Is just one low rumble. Not growing into the night. But falling into my hands. The bits of grey clouds.