Sunday, November 18, 2018

Broken Promise (Day 669)

You broke a promise        saying yes 
to yourself  smiling           yes
instead of                            yelling no                     
listening to                         your heart 
the voice within                wise and gentle
who knows you                 seeks the truth
and forgives you               when you are blind to it
you broke a promise        to yourself   rest a bit
it will be ok                        everything will be ok

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Jon Rawlinson (CC BY 2.0)

Saturday, November 17, 2018

He is a Hummingbird (Day 668)

Do not misconstrue his inability to say 

what must be said. It’s not his fault, 

you know. He is a hummingbird, 

buzzing from one dangling plastic 

container to the next, always hoping 

someone remembered to refill that

lurid nectar on which his life depends.

© 2018, by Hannah Six

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Friday, November 16, 2018

Wet Snow (667)

yes no wet snow yes between 

my toes sand fingers 

linger waves toss a gray 

and restless sea to see 

across those waves 

a sunrise waits for me 

across those waves of yes I 

float the sun orange tide 

high float and ride a restless 

yes a heaving in between 

flowing unseen west glancing 

yes no rising sunlight circles 

dancing on my unseen sky

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Shaheen Karolia (CC BY 2.0)

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Not Seeing (Day 666)

Not seeing   not hearing 


smokescreen   but truth 

   still seeps in 

around the edges

   wedging its way 

past my not wanting

   to know.  

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: MaxPixel

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Twilight’s Edge (Day 665)

Raindrops stitch  

a sodden sky

Imperceptibly, gray 

shifts to blue

Lifting the corner 

of twilight

To see what lies below 

its velvet edge

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Rhumba (Day 664)

man dances  rhumba 

hand on the waist

of an invisible partner 

she has not been easy 

to lead  relentless birdlike 

interest quick and sharp 

turning and twisting in his 

arms  glancing at her own 

feet to assure herself 

she will not be carried 

away  working furiously 

at the tragic melange  

she enjoys  never being 

asked to dance  with him 

or any man  he finds it funny  

he’d believed she could  

apparently  he was wrong

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Vernon and Irene Castle, 

by Frances Benjamin Johnston

Monday, November 12, 2018

Skeins (Day 663)

We wound the days 
in careful skeins, to save 
in a secret corner.
I knit them now, one by one, 
reforming each pine-tinged 
memory, dimmed by dust 
and age, windtossed, 
confused pages gleaned 
from disembodied books.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: PxHere