poetryphoto

Seed lines. So many of you ask how I write, how the poems form, what my process is in this odd and overactive mushy swirly lump I call my brain. I say it every time, that all my poems come from a single line, a Seed Line, and the rest grows around it. So, tonight I am going to begin a series where I will randomly post Seed Lines from some of my Typewriter Series poems, the origin, so that you can see how the poem grew. Thought I would start with this one, Typewriter Series #1871’s seed line. Let me know if there are any poems you have wondered about, and I’ll add them to the list. I love ya.

I want to collect your tears
Fallen on cold cracked ground
And make a bouquet of your smiles
To remind you how far you have come.

I want to stop each foot from walking
Stomping over your fragile beauty
And mend your ripped petals
With faith’s sweetest kiss.

I want to gather each flower
And dust off the ugly dirt of pain
Build your strength up for you to grow
Into the most vibrant tree- I’ve yet to see.

Trains on opposite sides of the track
remind me of the distance between our hands.
I long to interlace your fingers with mine in a harmony
of long distance togetherness.

Nights like these,
I try to hold onto the memory of your warmth
and the sound of your laughter.

I wonder if you can feel my heart
beating for you ten thousand miles away.


Post Notes:
Please do not remove the captions.
Title: Long Distance
Copyright:  © Ivan Ambrose 2017
Deck: Raven’s Prophecy Tarot
Safe Space Tags: Fire 
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FIRST FLIGHT

Fly to be free,
To be able to live,
In a new dimension.

Fly for pleasure
To seek joy,
For everything to live.

Flying was banned
For many today.
Innocent victims.

Joy stayed with them.
There is no life to fly.
Sad. Sad day.

~zd

(In memory of the Manchester drama)