bowl of random words 14

Use these words in a poem.
elm
fly
call
burrow
glade
Post your poem in the comments.

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “bowl of random words 14

  1. spring

    fly through
    glade & forest

    settle on oak
    elm & willow

    call from den
    nest & burrow

    tell them
    you’re
    here

    :: :: ::

    (I love the new template — very cool!)

  2. awakening

    songs issuing forth
    from invisible seducers
    swiftly fly
    on the back of the mist
    through the glade
    of ancient elms
    calling forth the dwellers
    from secluded burrows

  3. on top a summered
    elm, perched a small and soft-songed
    swallow that sung just

    as it could twitter,
    melodic and full of joy.
    burrowed beneath my

    flightless bones laid an
    envy of small and soft-songed
    birds that could fly just

    as well as they could
    sing, yet seated in a glade
    was i, who could not

    sing – was i, who could
    not fly or call to other
    birds for care or for

    company. was i,
    who sat alone and could not,
    but wanted to, love.

  4. Pingback: 4.15.10 – 19.59 « . rhapsody . rerouted .

  5. Down in the woods, I search out my
    favourite glade –
    I sit under an ancient elm and
    listen to the birds call
    and watch them fly,
    while nearby small creatures
    burrow under the fallen leaves.

  6. Pingback: How to Make a Poem Out of (Almost) Anything | Blue Loft

  7. On the limb of an elm
    The winged, sparrow learns to fly
    I feel that same desperate call to soar
    Oh, but i am only the blade from burrow
    That is rooted, tethered so to the glade

  8. Of this life,
    I’m all but done
    My breath is pain,
    it stings like salt
    And all I can do
    is walk the path of others.
    I must lay my elm here
    and wander around the crowd
    like one who lived many lives
    but was never born among them.
    From this choice
    I will hear the savage call of men
    pointing to my demented self
    while laughing with their eyes closed
    and their chin to the sky.
    If only I could fly with their mockery
    and leave their taunting lies,
    it would hurt half as much
    and feel less alone.
    Then in a lonely glade
    I would land my soul
    to set it free like
    primordial times.
    It would be a tale,
    this that I dream
    of the fight for life
    and freedom.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s