Word for Word of the Month is . . .

Hi everyone,

Sorry to keep you waiting! I thought you outdid yourselves in June. Didn’t you? It was really a stellar collection. Now let’s see what you’ll do with the word for July. A drum roll….

BREATHE

Huh? I think this is a great word. I look forward to seeing how many ways you can breathe life into your poems for July. Go!

5 comments on “Word for Word of the Month is . . .

  1. Take It All In

    Beneath stone faced crest
    courage pumped out his chest
    finishing this climb meant all to him
    looking up knowing how close to win

    this summit another checked off
    of more challenging mountains sought
    his breath beheld can do energy within
    he now would step up to another success begin

    William Joe Pyles

  2. Breathe, :SHE SAID

    “Breathe!,”she told Mama,
    Mama sighed and breathed,
    and out I popped.
    Could you believe?
    One breath from her,
    the next from me.
    We lived together
    happily,
    the years that followed,
    No one said,
    “Breathe!” like that
    till I heard she was dead,
    and the bewborn I carried
    breathed into my face.
    Breath for breath.
    and pace for space.
    And now I am old,
    I buried my love.
    I think of them
    lookiing down
    from above.
    And when I am worried,
    I can hear them both say:
    “Just breathe…”
    And I am good for the day.

    My youngest son was born 9 days before my mother died,
    and I hadnt been able to visit her in ther hospital because
    I had a torn cervix the drive might have injured the baby. A true story.
    I got to the funeral with child in arms.

    Jane Yolen all rights reserved

  3. Writers Rambling Freestyle Fun

    Down the highway they drove
    each other to wits ending
    as gas tank needle touched empty
    of all energy of day
    they decided to run
    away into dessert night
    time under a thousand stars above
    no passing stripes on center of straight forever roads
    Neon sign OPEN OPEN OPEN faint lure in mist
    wetting their faces looking in slide open window
    where they could hand some money
    to an old man figuring why they were
    flopping down in his cheap motel
    parking lot with only three cars
    and only one light on in on end far room
    They lay down not saying a word
    about anything done by along way
    they hoped to escape
    Sleep couldn’t come easy exhausted
    breathing tempted them to lie propped up
    finally trying shut eye relaxing stress fearing
    someone be knocking on their door
    or bedside phone ringing because they had no idea
    thinking what they would do next
    because of what they had done

    William Joe Pyles

    David, one more poem for July if I may. Thank you.

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