I’ve been catching up a bit with Bud Hunt and his posts of images to inspire poetry. This morning, he posted a Lego-inspired theme, and that got me writing this poem:

Interlocking,
plastic worlds;
faces, spaces,
creating places
where we smile
the same, look
the same,
feel
the same,
until little fingers
snap us back into reality,
and we break.

And the podcast:

Audio and voice recording >>

The other day, Bud caught up with some posts and I wrote these two as well:

Your shadow self
follows me –
I feel it –
the breath of you in my ear
as darkness.

(from this image post)

And

As far as our eyes can see,
nothing but distance;
The slow narrowing of lines
on which our stories may never collide.
Instead, we run parallel to each other,
calling out from across the tracks
with words echoing in the distance.

(from this image post)

Mary Lee has yet another great image this morning, to spark poetry. It is of a bubble.

Here’s what I wrote:

Hold me gently:
fingertips touching tender skin;
for inside,
I remain invisible
and vulnerable to the way things have been.
I float above this world,
in a cloak of color
but my rainbow drains easily,
so be gentle.

And the podcast:

Voice Recorder >>
 

Peace (in the poems),
Kevin

Mary Lee posted an image this morning of a castle, and I imagined it a flat place, full of stereotypes.

And so began my poem …

I light a match
to this cardboard castle
and burn the story to the ground,
finally free after so many years
of the roles into which we have been thrust:
the hero in shining armor
the damsel in distress
the fool juggling lives before the fickle king.
So now begins the new adventure,
free from the shackles of past
riding hard and fast
into the fading sun.

Listen to the podcast:

Record and upload audio >>
Peace (in the restart),
Kevin

Mary Lee had an interesting video up this morning to inspire poetry as part of her month of sharing resources from Wikimedia Commons. The video (above) is of a revolving sushi bar, and that got me thinking a bit about how the range of choices might actually be limiting.
Here’s what I wrote:

The predator hunts,
biding his time,
as his dinner cavorts
with others in line.

One might think
there were hours to wait,
as dinner flows by
on a small blue plate.

Another night
with too many choices,
the predator slinks home
in his stomach, the voices

call out for some meat,
some rice, some fish,
something of substance
from the small moving dish.

But, alas, that won’t be
so he takes out his bread
spreads peanut butter and jelly
and slinks off to bed.

And the podcast:

Record music with Vocaroo >>

Peace (in the poem),
Kevin

Bud posted a few new images this week to inspire poetry. The first is of an abandoned shopping cart at the edge of the ocean. Here’s what I wrote:

I’m not sure what’s taking him so long
to get the groceries:
the list was simple enough –
a gallon of milk,
a dozen bananas,
a little bit of orange juice …
I wonder if he has gone off the deep end
again.

And the second is a quiet scene — just two people holding hands, walking down the street. Here’s what I wrote:

She’d like to think
the silence,
a blanket;
She’d like to think
the fingers,
a thread;
She’s like to think
their dreams,
a quilt;
She’d like to think all that
but she’s just not sure,
and he’s not talking as they continue walking
into the quiet.

Peace (in the poems),
Kevin