"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Atlantic turkey wing

Day Nineteen: Pretty interesting - use one of the seashell names here as inspiration for a poem. The one I picked is in the title. Seems like a pretty ridiculous name for a seashell, which, I think, is why I like it so much.

It isn't snowing anymore,
but the cold still creeps in
through the windows,
especially the ones that have
been in need of new insulation
for the past several holidays.

We can feel it prickling our skin,
drifting through our pores and then
pulling them out so our arms
look like vast, dune-pocked beaches.
The meal rests anxiously on the table,
calling quietly out to our eyes.

We're lucky in this family,
to be so unconcerned, so nontrivial,
to have an understanding and
a firm grip on what stands tallest.
No desire to fly away, not now -
hunger motivates too strongly.

Quick Links and such.

Randomly found this excellent poem by Mark Cugini.

Zach has kept it going in this very honest short poem.
And this excellent one - he's good, folks.

Leonard wrote another good one, as well.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Shad, Stylin'

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