I’m pleased to let everyone know that I will be releasing a collection of new poems in April.
“Cicadas” will be available in Kindle and ebook versions first, paperbacks to follow as soon as I determine where my POD services will be.
Here is a rough of the potential cover, as always, thoughts and criticisms are welcome.
Thanks for showing up!
E
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, outdoors, Poetry, Self Publishing, 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
Crows’ chortle and quork
echoes through the pines
like laughter in a church
inviting us to take solace
in the forests’ serene majesty.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
It sinks deep into your muddled
mind
late night, dream state
the pins and needles
of a sleeping limb,
tongue probing
for an absent tooth,
the chafe of the tether
pulled from your grasping
hands,
then reality stakes its claim
and upon waking you catch
your breath,
seeking her scent upon the air,
stroking the sheets,
you find them cold.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
I remember holding her
so small
so fragile
her cries were so soft
I determined to never let her go
Today is her eighteenth birthday
I made her crepes
her favorite
and we talk
of what she might want to do
after college
God
I love her so much.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
your breath plumes out
into the chill morning air
cold slowly cut
by the rising sun
the woods are slow
waking up
your footfalls; cymbals crashing
so you stop and watch
and listen
as it all unfolds.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The April sun
stretches fingers
through leafless tree tops
its warmth welcome
within the tiny patch
you chose to stand in
free from shadow.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Once her hair hung down
her back
rich, shiny, black
Like a crows’ or Grackles’ feathers
Or piled up tight
in a bun
stuck with pins
you could barely see
Now age has cropped it
to a utilitarian length
silver white it shines
from between the flowers
she has painstakingly nurtured
in her gardens
like the full spring moon
high
in the daytime sky.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Slow down the years
A tired town lingers
Hanging on by just
A thread
Unravelled from a well worn
Coat that clings
To cardboard cut out
Scarecrow shoulders.
Broken apple crates
Lean in drunken stacks
And the green sea of suckers
Rises up in its hungry overgrowth
to swallow idle tractors
And broke wheeled wagons
By the hundreds.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four Seven
Your stomach churns
With the questions
Where are they?
What happened?
How?
Why?
Clouds obscure the sun
Rains come and never cease
Hope is a paralytic
We long for the grief
To move on.
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Edges 