crude
but the shape
of things to come

the Seine
Notre Dame
in pencil rubbings and erasures

the mind
a potter's wheel
with clay raw and ready to be tossed

Whit Howland © 2019

Caught
between drops
and lines

in this storm
there is no
thunder

or lightning
just many questions
about

where rain ends
and brain worms and
whimsies begin

Strength
expressed in
radiant beauty

a meadow
with clusters of
wildflowers

some pink
others white
with a blushing core

they sway to and fro
not chaotic
but martial with the wind

and they fight their battles
not with swords
and shields

but with rhythm
and dance

© Whit Howland 2019

ceramic
with a childish image

of an ark filled
with simple happy pigs

giraffes
and elephants

sans
the smiting rain

and
biblical justice

I’m sorry
most days as hard as I try

I fail you
miserably

so right now
I need a God that forgives

with an abundance
of gopher wood

Whit Howland © 2019

I take it you enjoyed the pain -
would you stay for another
round of heartache?
bear with me - really
it'll only take a moment
to put a dagger
in my heart

pay attention to my singing
you'll notice
how my heart rings
every time you're beaming

All these men in my life

Always love me too much
To a point, I’m always drained

From being controlled
Being captivated
Being ignored
Being cheated
Being confused
Being hurt
Being fooled
Being in love
Being invisible

They drained me to the point
I couldn't find myself
To love me first