I had my first class yesterday, Poetry and Theological Imagination. So far, it looks to be a fun class that might help reinvigorate a passion for writing. A jump-start is always welcome. Here, the result of an in-class session of writing:
Gravity revealed in the deftness against aging windows,
Wind whips whispers along panes and pages.
Nights wrapped in marshmallows run on,
Still with the turning of each page.
Children of eighty, eighteen, and eight
Ease the eons of passing moments,
Dancing and twirling, roundly righting ills
From details that sting.
Reflections on the snow and on the mind
Fall in silence, muffled by the white wetness.
Cold weather warms the soul from within.
No comments:
Post a Comment