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| 13 Thursday: Just My Type »
From lumbering slumber
we come up for air
waves of blue blankets
From a warm weightless drift
comes a cold wakeful spray
Sleep sogged and dream logged
we dive into day
Posted by Colleen on February 23, 2010 10:22 PM | Permalink
this rhythm feels perfect as it rolls off the tongue. greattttt, colleen! such a nice wordplay of transition in body, time, and temperature.
February 24, 2010 4:41 AM
Very good; only I'm not diving - more like dipping my toes in.
February 24, 2010 9:45 AM
A really wonderful comparison. I can feel it and it certainly fit my mood this morning...although my waves were red.
February 24, 2010 10:24 AM
So true, Kenju. But sometimes I rip off the covers like I rip off a bandaid and leap out of bed to get it over with.
Sky, part of the collage is from a photo taken near you. The two people are walking on the coast of Oregon. Far to the right is a giant sea stack rock. The puddle reflection was taking in Virginia Beach.
Tabor, now I have a picture of you as a whale breaking through red wave of covers. Hey, I wonder if the poem every would have come about if my comforter was anything but royal blue. This poem is a re-write from an older version, more than 10 years old.
February 24, 2010 10:26 AM
Your collage is fascinating. I can lose myself in it. Your poem is so thoughtful.
WW - Toil and Trouble
February 24, 2010 12:35 PM
Oh, waking up! Yeah. Beautiful.
February 24, 2010 8:52 PM
Great imagery !!
February 25, 2010 9:50 PM
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