Good day, to you. I am so happy to have a poem. Of course, it happens on a morning when I am going out and can’t sit and enjoy my rounds, but… [shrugs shoulders]. No title as yet. Process pretty simple. As soon as I had copied the words, I began to join them with phrases. When I knew I was talking about poetry, bob’s your uncle.
Without poetry there are no birds
never any birds —
only rocky ground, dry brooks,
and phantom walls —
no wood to set fire to,
no leaping hearts,
only hollow lives.
For new people, this was created from a collection of words that we find every Sunday over at The Sunday Whirl, thank to Brenda. Be sure to visit and see what others have done with the same words.