Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Autumn Party

Clement, russet, lime green, burnt umber, lemon, and scarlet leaves, 
a tapestry, a throw rug upon the grassy landscape. 
The confetti at the end of one season and the beginning of another. 
Autumn party.

PJFARR
2017


Saturday, August 19, 2017

Deep Blue


The human experience is not a shallow sea 
but a deep ocean of possibilities!
Peggy Jo Farr
August 19, 2017

Friday, March 17, 2017

Poetry Prompt #83 Response

Mary O’Keeffe weathered journey piercing the dark night lighthouse on the cape brightening with light. PJFarr 2017

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

A Poets' Diary Response

A Poets' Diary
Photo Challenge...
Please feel free to express yourself, and tell us what this photo says to you.

Image may contain: one or more people

Love holds gently in the stark face of darkness
and with its warmth, lights a path forward.
PJFARR 2017

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The Rays and Edges of Heaven: A poem

Sunbeams and moonbeams,
gold-linings and silver-linings,
the rays and the edges of heaven.
PJFARR November 2016

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Living a Better Version of My Whole Self

A Mosaic of Wholeness
By Peggy Jo Farr
1-12-2016

 Gluing the broken pieces
of my shattered life
into a mosaic of wholeness.


Wednesday, September 30, 2015

demise

there is a haunting in the breeze,
an orchestrating of the leaves into failing, falling, 
and fluttering in the wind rattling at the door of winter, 
demise

PJFARR
9/30/2015


PJFARR
10/5/2010

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Dead Man Walking

Dead man walking doesn’t even know it.
Blinded by his own arrogance and pride, he does not see it coming.
He is a whitewashed sepulcher.

Man makes plans for the future.
Relying on mediums and futurist.
His development halted, building on dead man’s corpus.

Thinking God does not see, nor pay heed to his deeds.
The fa├žade will collapse.
Hollow graves sink beneath the weight of bones.

The second death is inescapable for the damned.

     PJFARR
September 2015

Thursday, February 19, 2015

'Tis Too Early and Too Cold to Write: A Poem

'Tis too early and too cold to write, but the fire within stokes the brain for thought.
Dare, I touch pen to paper and spill forth what is in the mind?
No, I had better get a cup of coffee first and contemplate before marking the paper.

PFARR 2015

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Anticipating a Winter's Day

Waiting for the cold brisk wind, 
snowflakes, 
and clouds racing onward across the angry gray sky in anticipation of the storm.
With weather forecasting one can look forward even to a winter's day.
Why not just curl up on the couch with a good book, 
a cup of tea, 
and the family dog as a foot cozy.
PJFARR
2014

Saturday, August 2, 2014

unrepairable


Standing
in
broken
glass,
shattered,
fragmented,
unrepairable.
PJFARR
2014

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Poetry Corner



Peggy Jo Farr

Poems Corner12:21 PM
A word or two
I
share with you
I
hope you appreciate it
I
love poetry too!
PJFARR
2014

Friday, August 16, 2013


Cheeky writer.
Rose-colored jowls.
She blushed.
PJFARR
8-16-2013

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Dreams float on the zephyr winds of the heart's passions and the mind's thoughts.
PJFARR 2013

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

In Search of Time and Space

Where?
Oh, where?
Does the time go?
I never seem to have enough time to read, write, or create these days.
I am searching for time.
Where?
Oh, where?
Is there a space or place for me to read, to write, or create?
I am searching for a space.
Where?
Oh, where?

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Rinse and Spit
Working on a piece of writing can feel like being in the dentist chair:
painful,
wet,
and not knowing if one is going to hit the bowl when one rinses and spits!

Monday, July 15, 2013

A Man Obsessed

Obsessed with another man's life, one does not see.

Clearly, no image to behold in the looking glass.

One cannot see; what one does not possess...his own identity.
PJFARR
2013 

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

'Tis
the first official day of Spring;
clap your hands,
dance,
and sing!

Monday, October 22, 2012

Fairy Mist

Early my eye did catch the whirling dance of the fairy mist on the lake.

A haze, that swirls and twirls in circular patterns that change with the gentlest of a breeze. 

Kissed by the sun; drying in the air, they rise and disappear.

Fairies dance on the lake in the mist in late spring and early fall.

Come early or not at all, for the dance is fleeting and ethereal.


PJ Farr
2012

MUSES


Returning the Muses are jubilant!  They have taken great pleasure in their long holiday.  They laugh and clamor about for attention.  Peals of laughter, giggles, and spontaneous acts of exploration and fun have returned.  An air of lightness has been breathed into the abyss and brought life into a once dying soul.

I do not blame them for taking a long hiatus.  If I were one of my muses I too would have taken a long much needed vacation.   It is difficult to inspire someone in a constant negative space.  A black hole tends to suck the light and life out of the atmosphere.  Are you a black hole? 

I am glad they returned in time to see the fall colors, which I am enjoying as well.  This week has the promise of an ‘Indian Summer’.  What a tonic that will be! 

First fruits of their return and inspiration, a poem:  

 Autumn Air

Breathe deep the cool air of autumn.
Exhale the gloom.
Breathe deep the joy.
Laugh with the full moon.
Breathe deep.
Breathe deep.
Rest in a warm blanket of fall leaves until the last quarter moon.

PJ FARR
2012