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Whit Howland Feb 2020
Tweed and not too
formal

lighting
muted and soft

mirthy
and small conversation

and quiet
plinks
on a piano

ambience
is what it's all about

escape
and just enough to keep

the wild things
at bay

Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting with a straight forward message.
Whit Howland Feb 2020
Action

though footfalls might be
silent

if prayers are
palpable

the gospel crashes like
a cymbal

Whit Howland © 2020
Minimal word art.
Whit Howland Feb 2020
So close
I can smell your
breath

a *** potpourri
of whisky and decay

so close we can almost
say

good
bad

up
down

zenith
or  nadir

though

the debate
could rage
for days

but we're so close
the swans  
are tuning their trumpets

but maybe
not near enough
to call it a

Whit Howland © 2020
Abstract word art
Whit Howland Feb 2020
Still bare

the tree

branches
interlocked

backed up against
a gray dawn

with a trace of  bleeding
peach

and the grass
still wintered

frozen
and withered

but it's coming

soon

the budding
the rebirth

the explosion
of color

and most welcome

the relief




Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. Comfort food.
Whit Howland Feb 2020
With tendrils
swaying

it washes

much like we
who are in this together

wash each other's feet

someday this will end
and as we like to say

it'll all be over

but the weeping


Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. Idiom fun.
Whit Howland Feb 2020
and it's something I've
stumbled upon

this feeling of
being

trapped

between things that
flash

by my face

and stuff that happens
gradually

like receding hair
and little by little
loss

of those who helped
and showed me the way

Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. Invisible image.
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