She stands,
Slightly slouched,
Hair shining from brushstrokes,
Slight sparkles where the sun
Baked in flyaway ends, stirred by the breeze.
She smiles,
Wryly, one-sided.
A thought crosses her mind
And the lips press together
Making her dimples appear just for a moment.
She turns,
On one heel,
And strides away from him,
Not knowing the effect she has had
On his quick-beating heart, now subsiding.
©2014 choiSOSS
Intricacies of interactions
Reality of situation
And then
Intimacies of revelations
Harmony of conversation
And so
Panoplies of odd attractions
Verity of satisfaction
And how
©2014 choiSOSS
Silver Birch Press is seeking
April Fool’s Day
Erasure Poetry based on page 41 from a book of the poet’s choice
— interpret “April Fool’s Day” as you will (humor, trickery, thoughts on the day, but nothing x-rated or raw). Find out more about erasure poetry at
wavepoetry.com
and
geist.com.
I like this prompt because at some point we’ve all felt like fools, have been fooled, or have fooled someone else — so the resulting poems will be either humorous or emotional (my favorite types of poetry).
As a prompt, here are definitions of “fool”:
Noun: A person who acts unwisely; a silly person.
Verb: Trick or deceive.
Adjective: Foolish or silly.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:
In honor of April Fool’s Day (4/1), Silver Birch Press is accepting submissions of erasure poems based on page 41 from a book of your choice. For examples of erasure poetry…
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Intertwined
Dancing
This little step-by-step, mincing, toe-tip display.
Woven
Weaving
In its interplay of tangled words and hands and feet.
Waters
Testing
The subtle nervousness for what might come to be.
©2014 choiSOSS
it remains fruitless,
apart from sour grapes gnawed
and bitter seeds sown.
©2014 choiSOSS
Dribble
Dribble
Drip.
So clean the water seems.
It cleans the things unseen.
Halfheartedly, fingers flick, wetting the pristine floor next to my feet.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my body does a quick-freeze.
Drip
Drip
Drip.
Three last drops ooze from my palm to the floor, through finger slits.
I smile to myself, accepting it all and knowing the truth, bliss.
So clean the water is.
It cleanses even this.
©2014 choiSOSS
It’s strange.
This
tangly, jumbled-up mess of new;
glittery, spark-shooting buzz-crackle;
soothsome, calming wash of serendipity.
It seems
unfamiliar.
It’s not
like
pasts of fire, searingly hot, scorching my skin;
grasps of need, filling black voids that life had worn thin;
hasps of blame, hating self, welcoming pain in.
It is.
Just
so.
It is.
All
it has to be.
No more.
No less.
It is.
This.
Mess of new.
Glittery buzz-crackle.
Soothsome serendipity.
This.
©2014 choiSOSS
choiSOSS 