Goodbye Sunday... Welcome Monday... Welcome Poetry Potluck!!!!
Hello and WELCOME back to the 14th fun week of Poetry Potluck!!! :-)
Register yourself (with your name and the link to your potluck entry) using InLinkz below, and leave a comment with a pointer to your post! It would be great if you could link back to us on your blog!!! Once you are done with this, visit other participants (at least 6), read their entries, comment, AND ENJOY!!! Of course, you can always submit any poem of your choice as well...
Remember: Every week, InLinkz will be up on Sunday, at 8pm (CST), and will stay open till Wednesday, 8pm (CST). So you will have 72 hours to share your poem with us...COOL huh?!! Also, if you aren't new to Poetry Potluck, please note that we may not send you weekly reminders. So, it would be awesome if you could add us to your Blogroll or Favorites, so that you can stay updated with the happenings on our site!! :))
Flash Forward!! After a MOST interesting fun filled week, and with only a couple of weeks left in this year, we thought it will be a good idea to ponder over and write about our Reflections, Interpretations and Musings !!! You have an entire week to prepare your poem for this theme.. :) And if you are unable to submit a poem ON the theme, relax... Send in an older poem you would love to share with us...
And now, LET'S GET STARTED with this week's potluck!!!! Enjoy the VIDEO here and revel in your world of entertainment and interests!!! Thanks for joining in and supporting your fellow poets here at OUR favorite Poetry Potluck!!!
A Thin Line
form is an art,
i never partake in it
preferring blank page, no lines
no set meter or focus ..i am driven
that way, towards
the chaotic, the asymmetric
no blue lines, lines frighten me
a brutal, primal technique; insomnia
of a critique, multiple cross checks....wood pulp
pressure i call it..i hear voices
(undead poets),indiscreet laughter - behind
a penalty box, a virtuous glaze, icing is called
sent to review, no time for a hat trick
i know what lines
do to a soul...i hear its only a thin blue line
separating passion / obsession...
poetry / hockey
Burn it does, I mean
I do, the thoughts in my fingers
What do you do with fire you can not eat whole
And thowing water (or bourbon)
only makes it flame higher,
I get higher - just watching it burn. Burning
creating words; and its cold ash I
press to my face consumed by a vision
of Grace and redeemable prose. Crazy Grace,
I call it; it's
Thank you, bkm, for honoring us with these lovely poems...