Category Archives: Poetry

distractions

there are books to read

and there are words to write

yet i’m distracted

by the gentle sounds

of the sleepy forest

seeping in my open bedroom window

that and the plaintive meow of someone

who wants back inside

~Melanie Thomason

9/10/2019

let me in!

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a poem

layers

of

time

shift

memories

drift

in

filling

me

up

weighing

me

down.

he

came

in

swift

he

is

a

gift

that

causes

my

mood

to

lift

~Melanie Thomason

9/9/2019

Splat

 

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Insect Orchestra

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

I listen to cicadas sing

zing, zing, zing

the same song for hours

as bees buzz ’round the flowers

Ο

afternoon fades,

gives way to night

crickets join in

and play the chorus

Ο

katydids’ calls and answers resonate

I contemplate

the symphony of the forest

~Melanie Thomason

9/8/2019

6 Comments

Filed under Poetry, quadrille

National Kitten Day

Since today is National Kitten Day I thought I’d post a couple more pictures of Splat also known as  Puddin’ Pie, Sweet Pea, Splatticus and Little bit…aka as Little Shit when he is being a bad boy 😉

He has stolen the dog’s toy even though it is as big as he is!

Here he is purrfectly poised to attack my toes if I attempt to put on my sandals 🙂

 

Not that I really Needed an excuse to post such cuteness!

7/10/19

Melanie Thomason

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summer love~haiku

Image by kordula vahle from Pixabay

sunshine, salty breeze

siren song beseeching me-

paradise awaits

troubles melt away

scrunching sand under bare feet-

ocean waves hello

beauty surrounds me

swimming into the sunset-

please don’t follow me

Melanie Thomason

7/5/19

 

 

2 Comments

Filed under Blogging Community, haiku, Poetry

web ~haiku

09-spiderwebs-manlydam-27august2011-038

the patient spider

intricately weaves by night

delicate beauty

~Melanie Thomason

6/12/19

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Filed under haiku, Poetry

prisoner

she is a prisoner to poetry

drinking in words as dark and delicious as coffee

listening to lyrical lines of joy or passion

to rhythms as soft as a breath brushing her cheek

or as fast and hard as hoof-beats

intoxicating rhymes tickle her tongue like champagne

she is a prisoner to poetry

and she need never be free

~Melanie Thomason

6/12/19

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Remembrance

In the end we all become stories.

That doesn’t mean that the stories are true.

It doesn’t mean that the stories accurately reflect you.

And when the last person that knew you dies your story fades…

Until the last person that they shared pieces of you with then dies

And so on until your story evaporates into the ether.

 

I remember you

but through rose-colored glasses

you, only better

and with my last breath

I hope someone remembers

a much better me

~Melanie Thomason

5/08/2019

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