Tag : Poetry

felted sculpture by Marjolein Dallinga for bloomfelt.com

I am


I am the dolphin
who swims in the sea.
I am the dolphin
the dolphin is me.

I am the horse
who runs on the land.
I am the horse
And I understand.

I am the moon
who sits in the sky.
I am the moon
and sometimes I cry.

I am the nomad
who wanders alone.
And what of the nomad
where is my home?

Paul Bateman
Melbourne ,Australia

felted sculpture by Marjolein Dallinga for bloomfelt.com

Burning ring of fire

prayer by Marie Howe

Every day I want to speak with you. And every day
something more important
calls for my attention—the drugstore, the beauty products, the luggage

I need to buy for the trip.
Even now I can hardly sit here

among the falling piles of paper and clothing, the garbage trucks outside
already screeching and banging.

The mystics say you are as close as my own breath.
Why do I flee from you?

My days and nights pour through me like complaints
and become a story I forgot to tell.

Help me. Even as I write these words I am planning
to rise from the chair as soon as I finish this sentence.

felted sculpture by Marjolein Dallinga for bloomfelt.com

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy evening- by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely,dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.