Blue January
sky, crisp air nips with whipping
wind. My face is cold
Seconds slip past and I feel
this new year sliding away.
Liked this poem? Try Backyard or Rain Pours.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Blue January
sky, crisp air nips with whipping
wind. My face is cold
Seconds slip past and I feel
this new year sliding away.
Liked this poem? Try Backyard or Rain Pours.