MY TWEETETUDES
TWEETETUDES
THESE WERE CREATED ON TWITTER AS AN EXERCISE, SOME WITH PRESET PROMPTS. THESE WERE CREATED BY ME.
© Gay Reiser Cannon 2010 All Rights Reserved
Dark is the sky that
saps the spirit from stars,
robs us of moonlight and
dampens the passion of our love.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It rained and rained
crystal bead memories.
Taking trains across England
as my past and present merged
and I at last reigned.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She looked in his eyes
and found them empty.
Time now blocked visions
of a glorious future
she once saw projected there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the edge of the rainbow
in Hibernia, Apollo
left his pot of brilliance.
Dwellers there now weave
tales of all colours.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An old man,
wizened from salt air,
peered at the empty shore
and cried. He felt his
connection and culpability.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Something was brewing
in her soul that spelled magic,
a potion to break bullies
and banish bigotry.
She called it LOVE.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Until I felt love,
the beauty of the sunset,
the serenity of the mountain lake,
the elation of joy
were only shadow emotions.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Grew up high on a plateau,
‘neath the clouds in that great sky.
Their patterns shaped our dreams
and the night stars formed our hope.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A summer’s rain,
the sound of trains,
honeysuckle by the porch
where I sat with my Grandad
and heard stories of the South.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A summer’s rain
left mirrors on the lawn
and looking in them
I saw angels and white rabbits
racing in and out behind my face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A summer’s rain, a new refrain —
on such a day my plans detain
me from the play of puddle splashing
once again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We were connected
by an unusual memory
of deaths in that time.
It marked us then and fate left us
twisted and intertwined.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She held a secret close to her chest
that she told a few. In time the secret grew
and all the time she knew
and the secret knew too.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The simple touch of her hands
on the piano flooded his mind
with the joy of her music;
he saw again the beauty of her youth.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a moment of transformation.
Caught in metamorphosis,
the bush covered in gray sacs…
then suddenly a hundred butterflies!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Behind a door in an unadorned room,
he hid from himself as well as others.
His cousin said he cried out
and still heard the bombs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Never, never again would
she accept tyranny.
Instead she’d defy custom,
break barriers and fearlessly
proceed on her own path.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hearing him sing blues
She felt a sensation, a
Joy born of sorrow
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She felt a sensation deep down in her bones
She felt a sensation where ya get the hurtin’ jones
She’s a feelin’ woman and she sings the blues alone
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Love sets like the winter sun;
light leaves without notice.
Night breathes a freezing loss
and emptiness ices over.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a far off land,where
toys are banned, the children
scrape the sand for shells. On the
beach they can still pretend.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In far off land, where
the mind follows its nerves to a place
called Fear, it encounters sinews who’ll fight
and they’re called Strength
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We sat beneath a pastel sky
drinking in Florence. The Duomo
witness to stories of our lives
poured out sweet as the wine.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A subtle gaze, not so slight
as she meant it to be
Only enhanced her style and elegance.
Her poetry captive to her beauty.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two men sat by a window in identical hats
one large and dour, the other small and jolly.
Passersby smiled at the incongruity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Water lilies, floating ever so gently,
painted in changing light.
Giverny gardens still
give us hope through Monet’s grief.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a chair, by a window,
she memorized every model of car that she could.
When she was grown
she’d have one of her very own.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Elusive is love, but glad is the heart
which gives it. Love lights
the soul’s dark journeys
and opens its hidden troves.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a word that changed
everything for him. So much depended
upon it. His fate in my hands;
he waited, I answered—yes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She wore a simple green dirndl
and played the flute. Vermeer
could not resist her and
now you can meet her in the Louvre.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A driving summer rain
forced us to remain, and wait
while waves lashed the beach
and my thoughts, like sea foam, churned.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The elements raged as we engaged
the clasp of the snare. Deep in the
earth a darkness moves and threatens
those who care. Stop it! we dare.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Growing up: gales of sand,
bitter winter cold, sunny high plains.
Our European daydreams:
a gentle breeze, soft light rains.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the midst of the tumult,
a gentle voice releases
a song that calms, and calls
the restless to a center of serenity
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We welcomed her home despite
her lawless wild nature but
her restless heart kept dragging
her away. She would return but not to stay.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a chair, by a window
he advised clients for years.
Seasons changed the cityscape.
One day he bought a cycle and escaped.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Her eyes widened at the thought
of the surprise birthday trip
to Paris he’d once promised her.
They’d waited for love so long.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We rocked all evening, she and I,
On oak rocking horses painted pink and blue;
Candy and Bob rocked us around the universe.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
No words were exchanged,
only a key in a note that said ONCE.
Outside she found a box.
Unlocked the lid read, FOREVER.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A harvest moon, a country fair
A Ferris wheel,a teddy bear
The country boy, the city girl
Our anniversary of meeting there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sun beats down on scorched earth;
fields rise blown by wind gusts.
They load their jalopies with hope
and leave for California.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alone in a musty attic
I found a trunk full of dolls
They weren’t mine. Turning away
I heard a tiny voice, “We’re following you.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A baby and a little bird,
staring down one another. The baby cooed
and cooed again. The mockingbird cocked
His head and sang coo, coo.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A baby and a sparrow, shared
Shade beneath a noble tree. They made
A silent vow to become a pack of three.
That allegiance would allow them to be free.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A twitch, affecting only her right eye,
always preceded a preposterous lie.
She proceeded anyway disregarding her giveaway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Subtle, she wasn’t especially keen
to be announced as a poison expert.
She chose to refine that craft
with her snakes privately.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A love once deep, rises to the surface
and disappears in the repetition of uneventful
days. In unresponsive partners it dies.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A coal black night outside my window,
I hide behind my own veil of jet black hair
And we wait, the night and I,
For the splinter of a moon.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A furtive glance; a whispered word,
A vial of some liquid herb.
The waltz is light, they start to dance.
The hearse is waiting at the curb.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Setting out the milk jugs before leaving for her job,
She noticed the tires were flat, and the gate unlocked.
Sounding an alarm, as she ran for her small antique clock
And the stories of her life kept in an ornate jewelry box.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He approached with caution, clutching his vita.
Audition for the dragon lady. Softly, then he found his stride. Shock, from her an ovation!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She held her head high
She bore her grief with courage
Black would adorn her
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a festive gathering, all the more
surprising for its guests. Kittens wore
party hats, had their own treat dish, and danced.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She flew as if on a cloud; around
the sky by and by, she arrived.
The stars came later
but she shone brighter.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A gentle tap on the shoulder,
and all she saw were the roses
he brought her;then she heard their song
playing. Her future before them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Silent were the trees, keeping their promises.
The trust of trees will only be broken
when they walk the earth once again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The mist hung heavy over the moor;
warned I might lose the door.
A tinkling in the gloam
then the ice cream man brought me home.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On pure white sands, we tested atomic bombs
and the sand blew cancer onto Texas
and Oklahoma mothers and babies.
Many died.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
High noon, the sun beat the back
of the car, outside no breeze, no rain.
At last we heard it,
that “red and silver streamline” train.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was only a word, one word to guide them.
Through the fog into the snow, no one to hide them;
The word was HOPE; it flowed inside them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Every night before sleep
the low whistle, then rumble
of wheels on the rails.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tweets fly free,
like butterflies of many colors,
carrying messages through the sky.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There’s nothing there,
there’s no one there, it’s empty everywhere.
I search but cannot find. Lost almost blind;
no one there for me.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A waltz on the verandah,
then a rush to the stair,
abandoned glass slipper,
walking on air.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There’s nothing there,
there’s no one there,
it’s empty everywhere.
I search but cannot find.
Lost almost blind;
no one there for me.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Every night before sleep
the low whistle, then rumble
of wheels on the rails
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Life is a gift we must realize.
Understanding, the quest.
Unique our presence here and
Unique our challenges and victories.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Suzanne’s your star-crossed lover,
traveling on the river of forever;
she brings you thoughts of gold
and ideas of liquid silver.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Under a rusted old trestle bridge,
she met two grand dames
who told of the blitz, their war,
their loves and their survival.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Under a rusted old trestle bridge,
she learned of the Allied prayers
to keep her generation safe
and allow them to live free.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She waited by the
green glade near the playing water
by the brook which lured the blue peacocks.
He came to her alone dressed in white.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He sang a song of color
and rainbows poured from him
anointing all who heard with happy .
They all became a glowing chorus.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She played an Irish harp
and all her notes were golden.
They carried through the county.
He walked green miles to find her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A hawk circled a mountain top,
looking for that special draught
of hot dry wind: the entry
to gliding high and seeing far.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A deserted station,
weeds sprouting ‘neath rusted rail.
Parcel on platform, tag reads,
“Aug, 1921. Deliver to Charlie Chaplin”.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Broken night of stars
Bleeding with cosmic colors
Next day sky-stained scars.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A pastel sky over pacific seas
In lotus pools, on a silver beach
In shangri-la, in all my dreams
She waits there for me.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Distilling forty years into a single day
Drinking the loves of a lifetime
Absorbing the idea that
One life touches so many. Drunk happy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Full of love yet so empty,
she yearns for yesterdays with him.
No one else to love now,
she’s lost in a cloud of regret.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He thought her soft as freshly fallen snow.
When he had brushed off his lust,
he found her also icy and cold.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Blue eyes, blue skies,
blue lullabys by azure seas,
teal palm trees sway
whispering shadow songs
for long days, sleep deep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some say ‘hope’ is a prison that holds you in despair;
I say ‘hope’ is a beacon that promises repair.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A lovely land, far away
where grackles talk and
palm trees sway, days are warm
but breezes dance with waves
and there I stay.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A boorish, brazen sort,
His only redeeming skill
He baked a great torte filled
With berries and dates
That he fed to his mates.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On the wind swept savanna,
We watched as the grandeur
And history of Africa’s great animals
Raced before us into extinction.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Country music
creates a lyric of your senses,
winds your memories,
weaves itself into your heartstrings,
returns in melody when you need it.
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist,
but with a computer, my gorilla friend
can play games with me and
send e-mails to zoos everywhere.
It was him, or was it?
Outside she spied a man in a raincoat
The one she’d daydreamed about.
She paid for the coffee and ran out
He was waiting with a smile
He lulled himself to sleep
with thoughts of adventure and bravery.
He’d learn to fly a plane and fly
solo around the world.
Through our back window,
the majesty of Cheyenne Mountain
changing colors with the day,
recalls Colorado snow-capped memories.
She sat across from him on a train,
somewhere in Northern Wales.
She watched Britain roll past them
reflected in his eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Country music creates
a lyric of your senses,
winds up your memories,
weaves itself into your heartstrings,
returns in melody when you need it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He wasn’t much of a
conversationalist, but with
a computer my gorilla friend
can play games with me and
send e-mails to zoos everywhere.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He lulled himself to sleep
with thoughts of adventure
and bravery. He’d learn to
fly a plane, first to go
solo around the world.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Through our back window,
the majesty of Cheyenne Mountain
changing colors with the day,
recalls Colorado snow-capped memories
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A village as old as time,
adobe built from earth.
Timeless Taos takes
hold of your soul and
paints your thoughts with mystery.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Once there was a rainbow
That extended from one end
Of the beach to the other.
Out of the middle fell a pot of silver
The pieces fell out and they’re
Out there still riding the waves.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Her eyes were the
colors of the rainbow,
her nature in each hue.
At night she flew to
The stars for diamonds
And Lucy loves London too.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thru the eyes of a child,
it was simple disagreement.
They could just say, “sorry”.
It came to this? Moving away
With Mom and dolls.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
© Gay Reiser Cannon All Rights Reserved
