We lie on our backs
to watch soap bubbles rising--
rainbows in the wind.
Geoffrey Philp is the author of "Archipelagos," a book of poems about #climatechange. He is working on a graphic novel, "My Name is Marcus."
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Geoffrey Philp and writers in Poets and other communities.
Under blinding blue
skies, green leaves of orchards--
a plum at my feet.
By Geoffrey Philp about a year ago in Poets
Snow shimmers in -24 degrees. Trees that usually wear their forest green coats are dusted by frost, looming tall and piercing the pastel coloured sky like sentinels for a citadel of silence. Finland is made of frozen moments, standing so still in between breaths of icy air. It’s serene. It’s like a dream. It’s the most enchanting thing I’ve ever seen.
By emabout 22 hours ago in Poets
The sun rose again.
Her gown of yellows and whites
blankets me with warmth.
By Colleen Waltersabout 19 hours ago in Poets
— Migration —
THE Sponsor, Cousin Billy Kantor, would bring relatives escaping Russian Persecuting Pogroms filtering 2-3 at a time through Ellis Island, the Immigration reception area in New York. Not far from the Statue of Liberty, "Give us your Tired your Poor." And, putting them to work in his Haberdashery. "Billy Sells for Less" Sioux City, Iowa. Of course the suit-tie-and fedora were the 'Dress Code' of the day; probably not the case today.
By Jay Kantor7 days ago in Humor