Even in the crisp, chilly sun
There seems to be
The likelihood to run
Golden pollen
Creating shimmering
Yolky pools
Though long fallen
Still coating grass
dried like straw
laying in clumps
Running through percolates the
Canary clouds starting to brew
Grabbing a blooming dandelion
Plucking it before the fluff
Forms and flies away
A fluffy buzzing bumble bee
Now powdery, flies from
A clustered head of mustard
Like a criminal absconding with its
Dusty quarry
Gathered together by
An expert forager
Permanently capturing
This citrine wonder
Shining down like
Gods presence among us
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 9 days ago
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Beautifully written, love the details and imagery within your words.