the steepness of the hill
leaves you out of breath
hands on knees
then clasped on top
your sweaty head
steam rising off and around you
mingling with the ground fog
breath of earth
beneath the oaks
the fox that watched
your ascent
slips quickly through
the underbrush in silence.
© Erik Hansen 2017
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Morning rains wash away
the winter grime
on the windows of a sleepy town
nestled comfortably
in the river valley
fog wafts over the ball fields
backstreets and tobacco barns
orchards and berry patches
bike paths and gas pumps
unwatched, the water rises
in the river next door
and rises
and rises
© Erik Hansen 2017
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
4-3-17
the atrium smells of stale coffee
and damp newspapers
the floor was clean once
the dirt crunches
under your feet
as you shuffle them
the left taking your weight
then the right
glancing at all the others
killing time
all the while the line
you all stand in
creeps slowly forward
where the badges wait
to be pinned
with austere finality.
© Erik Hansen 2017
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
i
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
Edmund Spenser
Book 1 Canto 1
The Faerie Queene
1590
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Fiction, Short Fiction, Short Story, Writing
“But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, to dry one’s eyes and laugh at a fall, and baffled, get up and begin again.”
Robert Browning
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
its never so simple
black and white
right and wrong
this complex combination
that is us
the kindness and the cruelty
the hope and the despair
I see it in her painting
or his words spoken into air
comfort in the knowledge
that the dark mountain
of the thunderheads
will give way eventually
to the ever present sun.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The modern gypsies arrive
midday
to back- in and plug-in
set-up and wash-up
solar panels gleam
in the afternoon light
capturing the moment
the sublime paradox
of their motley
four wheeled renaissance.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
evening swamp song
camp fire comfort.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Grass grows up
between sun bleached
ribs and pelvis
Leaf litter lays
obscured by its insistence
New days rise up
upon the bones of the past
rejoice
in your moment
before the moment has passed.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Sleeping dogs sunning
April sun shining
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Edges 