Cloud My Vision

                                                                                                                                                    
cirrocumulus stratiformis
accumulate like cotton balls
and
stretch

and

knit 
and jostle-stitch
across the woollen skies.

no audition

held;
just met and

in the spotlight swept,

brief cameo of layers
of white puff pastry players,

they curl their hair,

slip-slide their way through
audience's stares.

shapeshifting,

weightless,

lifting

goes their perfect guest appearance,

momentary

beauty in the air,

no airs and graces,

standing on occasion,

no waiting for ovation.

photo: wikimedia commons

shared on poets united, poetry pantry #150

writer's block

Stalling for time
fingers on the buttons
in a fugutive stake-out;
ready for what's coming.

Like funeral chit-chat,
small talk
slips
from preoccupied lips;
///////////////////////////////////
but
////////////////////////////////
when my mind has this
/////////////////////////////////
blip
///////////////////////////////
I can't talk
/////////////////////////
for
//////////////////////
shit.
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This is my hundredth post. It's been a fallow time recently but hopefully inspiration will be just around the corner :)