Wildlings
A wistful tautogram poem by EMG 3/22/23
Why would waterfalls wash 'way wars?
Why would waiting wake wistful words?
Why wouldn't westward wandering worry women?
Why wouldn't warmongers' wolds whisk 'way wild willings?
Woeful while waiting,
Weary while working,
Worthwhile when wishing,
Worthy when whittled, whispered words wail,
Wanting whipped wildlings while wind whistles.
About the Creator
Emily Dickerson
Hopeful and young, full of love. From my heart high praises are sung. For this reason I am here: to love and serve and bring all souls near. <3
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More stories from Emily Dickerson and writers in Poets and other communities.
How the Harvest Mouse Came to Suisun Bay
A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
By Taylor Inman7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Nice❤️