Tuesday, July 31, 2018

The Wormhole (Day 559)

Today, He got the worm. 
Today, He soared through 
endless waves of centuries, 
that well-known escape 
from the rotten reality 
of His fiendish mind 
and revolting lips. And we? 
We were left with nothing 
but the wormhole. 
If this were sci-fi, we could 
use the wormhole to travel 
back and correct the errors 
of certain-of-our ways. 
But no, that’s unlikely.
To begin with, it’s not 
the right variety of wormhole. 
And, if it had been 
a time portal, He surely would 
have foregone his own worm, 
to prevent us from bettering 
the world by righting his myriad
wrongs. After all, that’s just 
the kind of stand-up guy he is.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Michael Vadon (CC BY-SA 2.0)
Photo edited by Hannah Six

Monday, July 30, 2018

A Good Tree (Day 558)

Leaves large and dark 
and glossy, attracting wasps 
and birds and other beautiful 
flying things. From my bed
I watched spring surge 
into its bare limbs, marveled 
at the graceful catkins draped,
like tassels, amidst a pale, 
lime mist as, day by day, 
the sun intensified. And, sooner 
than I would like, I will watch 
to see how it bedecks itself 
in honor of autumn. 
Later, perhaps snow will weigh 
heavily on branches blown 
clean by frost-nipped gales. 
Maybe I will see it glistening 
in a glowing sunset, 
each contour, every tiny twig, 
crystallized in a coating of ice, 
as if Nature wanted to preserve 
her favorite, in all its glistening 
emerald perfection, forever.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Sunday, July 29, 2018

A Promise (557)

In the wee hours, 
somewhere along the way, 
I lost them. Just ran out. 
A tiny fish 
   in an endless ocean,
a poet, 
entirely off her words. 
They may never return,
   to comfort me 
when the world feels ugly. 
Or maybe,
   just maybe, 
like a pet bird who tired 
of its cage, they flew 
   out my window, and 
might be lured home with 
   a soft voice, 
   an aromatic treat, and 
   a promise 
of greater freedom.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Public Domain Pictures

Saturday, July 28, 2018

A Few Things HE Reminds Me Of... (Day 556)

reaching across the dinner table.

never saying “May I...”, “Please” ,
or “Thank you”.

using your sleeve for a napkin.

chewing with your mouth open.

talking with your mouth full.

blowing your nose at the table.

always showing up late.

barging in without knocking.

judging and criticizing .

calling people names that are
   hurtful, childish, mean.

making a pregnant woman stand, 
   instead of offering your seat.

leaving your clothes in the laundry-room 
   washing machines for hours on end. 

changing lanes without signalling.

letting the door slam in the face of 
   the person behind you.

cutting ahead of others in line.

using language that is 
   abusive and foul.

not scooping your dog’s 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Looking Shy: The Manners of a Young Girl of the Meiji Era,

by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (Japan, 1839-1892), via Wikimedia Commons

Friday, July 27, 2018

Winter Mosaic (Day 555)

prim winter’s indulgence 
periwinkle and forget-me-not 
petals   tossed skyward   
a scattered seaglass mosaic   
transluscent   shifting
set into swirling clouds
of cream and silver

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Thursday, July 26, 2018

Overnight (Day 554)

Overnight, blossoms 
appeared—tiny pink moons 

decorating stark brown 
branches, tingling now, 
with promise 

of apples, and cherries, 
and pears 
in the fullness of the year

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Wonderlane (CC BY 2.0)

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Firm Footing (Day 553)

Ours were not the days
of maverick fame  of riding 
off-point waves  threading 
needles of jagged 
and treacherous tides
no emerald velvet linked
our roads to shore
or barred our wanderings
Those things came later  
long after  
we were blinded by a wealth 
of silver coins 
of light glinting 
as far as our eyes 
could see  the murky 
dazzle of ever-restless water  
and sheets
of dun-colored sand  bleached 
and glaring beneath
an infrequent sun
Our years slid into the blue  
sinking  ceding  as they will
to forceful waves 
of change
and yet  the land’s end 
on which we stood   
at the breathing sea was 
firm footing  still  perhaps  inviting 
those willing to 
look up  
to see the living treasure  spilling  
rushing  at their frozen feet

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Franco Folini (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Angels, Blue and Gray (Day 552)

Hovering angels  blue 
and gray  shimmering 
like antique glass over 
the fields  humming in 
trees and up 
through the earth  
through the soles of my feet 
where I stand  weak-kneed  
shade-blessed  dazzled
by the sparking air  wrapped
in a darkly sighing breeze
Circling in pairs  perfectly 
matched  newly emerged into 
their eternal-summer world  
and gone before first frost 
lights each blade of sunrise 
grass afire  each blade of sunrise  
casting fluttering blue-gray 
shadows on fields of lavender 
mist where  once  this day 
happened  where  once  
shining angels hovered 
above the singing earth

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Monday, July 23, 2018

Yesterday still (Day 551)

Yesterday  still coming true
clear blue pools of memories
folded into the corners
of jagged black rocks
puddles of bright dreams
and desires
darting like fish
among the wavering strands
of today  tomorrow
tumbles from parting clouds

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Abstract Wisdom (Day 550)

aureate night angels 
glide   stallions astonish   

your silk wraps 
wisdom goes wistful 

sanguine strays 
hymnals   an ascetic

rocks alight   some hard 
other weeks mountains 
forgive    yet   

warm blue sun ignores  
the underworld  

oranges forget 
frozen grief awaits 
their azure wails 

summer gallops directly 
green moon sleeps 
while it works

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

Saturday, July 21, 2018

Adored (Day 549)

mirror   3:37 a.m.   
expanding   shining   darting
   like a startled cat
or a dream 
   dissipated by waking
hard glittering flickers
sometimes disconnected  
caught out 
   of the corner of the eye
   broaching the subject
of possibility  or  of being 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

Friday, July 20, 2018

The sky inside his glass (Day 548)

He took a sip, 
pretending it was 
the sky swirling 
inside his frosted glass,
the sky that curled and 
folded in upon itself  
trailing a shadowed veil
across the slate-dark sea,
when hand-in-hand they 
traced the wine-stain 
crescent of a bay from bluff 
to point, pausing to dance 
with foam-tipped tickling 
waves, laughing at their 
good luck to chance 
on such a storm 
on such a day.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

Thursday, July 19, 2018

Kintsukuroi (Day 547)

cherish the broken
vulnerable  dangerous   
stronger where 
   they have been repaired
scars and wrinkles
marks of a useful life

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Wikimedia Commons

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Too Far Down (Day 546)

Simply broken  we are
  too far down the road 
to turn 
   back  toward 
the headwaters 
of a river so swift  
there’s no fighting 
   its currents  
no delighting 
   in the cool splash  
but merely a rapid 
    against bruising  
 boulder-strewn banks

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Charles Gill/WikimediaCommons

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Subtle Butterflies (Day 545)

Two subtle butterflies
paper-white  wings 
rising   rising  
in a dance 
of helical delight
against a dappled world
of emerald green   
citrine  and golden
late-summer sunlight
bring to mind 
a wedding day   a cloudy 
bride in white 
and gray  sea of chairs  
billowing veil   and blue 
freesia bouquet
upward they twirl
circling  circling
wings alight   lighter than 
air  flowers and sky
and lace and leaves
they quickly disappeared
from view  lost 
in the blue  but I still 
see them there

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pexels

Monday, July 16, 2018

Listen (Day 544)

Why can’t
you can’t 
hear me talking 
across this
ocean of words  
words can’t  
can’t words
heal us
hear them crying
heal us
will we know if
we don’t try
don’t we try
a moment
we will know 
a moment
hear them 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Abandoned Border, MTSRS/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Sunday, July 15, 2018

The Third One (Day 543)

The third one  a surprise
it was those eyes  dark 
enough to drown the moon
brown as midnight violets 
we were heat lightning
quick  forbidden  captive
waves and arms like love  
whispery and graceful  
this one knew how to take 
a thing and break it like
a brittle stick  just let it fall 
around him  ground
littered with shiny trinkets 
that once caught his eye
maybe that’s unfair  he said 
he didn’t know  there: 
a bad idea from the start   
ablaze with August heat  
one quickly learns that 
some hearts need doors  
even  especially  secret 
sinning  starlight-swimming  
blueberry-pie-sweet  this 
time few regrets   see how you 
get back what you dish out?

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: publicdomainpictures.net