Egomaniacs eagerly eating
Pillowy Parisian pastries.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Tag Archives: poetry community
Four 10
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four Nine
The murmur
of frog’s song
and duck’s babble
from the wet heart
of the swamp
reminds us
of the everlasting
change,
the triskele we see
in everything
If we look close enough.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four Ate
The dust laden wind
across the high desert
cracks lips
and exposed skin
like baked mud
around the waterholes
slowly receding
green gems
in the red dirt.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
4 Seven
Protein drink explodes
upon the sidewalk;
tragedy comes
in many guises
this Thursday morning.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four 5
Inuit see clearly
the aput
And the slow suffocation
accompanying it
if the wind could pierce it
you could breathe
the icy air
far away from
the bloody brush strokes
glistening upon the pack ice
left by the nattiq
dragged from their aglu
by the ever hungry
ever silent
ever searching Pihoqahiak.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four 3
Sudden Sunday snowfall;
slippery sidewalk surprise.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four Two
Rain taps out a
stuttering beat upon
the aluminum flashing
wrapped window sill.
Beads of moisture trickle
in random pattern
down the glass surface of
my office window;
the day as dark
as the mood
it ushered in.
© Erik Hansen 2016
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Four One
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
4*30
Follow the trail through
The head high mountain laurel
To the still waters
Of a secret pond
The grass upon its banks
Waves back and forth
In the cool breeze
A cloud spotted
Clear blue sky
Is mirrored on the surface
And you wish getting up,
Brushing off the seat of your pants
And leaving
Weren’t an option.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Dreams
Dreams are dust
Drifting in the scattered
Sunlight through a curtain-less
Window
Open slightly, the breeze
Swirls the countless motes
A frenzied dance
With no apparent end.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Edges 