Respected and Recycled
Copyright© Tyler C. Pedersen and The Ancient Eavesdropper, 2007-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tyler C. Pedersen and The Ancient Eavesdropper with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
- Devoid of calculation fighting this cold shiver the nonplus impulse #micropoetry #poetry 1 year ago
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- Clear Creek #nature #inspiration #photography #Oregon #autumn #ClearCreek instagram.com/p/B3rYpSmlnXP7… 2 years ago
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Tag Archives: awareness
Bull-by-the-horns bone-jarring emotion, a poem charges uninhibited thru my cranium, words splatter across the page, a red flag of feeling all that remains.
This heart has my brain in an eternal headlock, hammering home licks on my xylophone ribs, kicking my lungs so they feel every breath.
Feed on fresh flesh of meaty moments, digest diction raw, tenderize sound pound for pound, your tongue on the chopping block.
My creative moderation is akin to a close encounter with a grizzly bear, wild, wide-eyed consciousness crumpling me into a ball of scratch paper waiting to be mauled.
A brief rift between dream states of shadowy shape-shifts, a mental lapse eclipsed by both sun and moon, so weightless, we shed our own self-awareness.
Originally posted on The ancient eavesdropper:
What the ceramic sparrows were missing with their beaks perched away from the pane: a rose waving its pink-petaled windmills at tilting bumblebees, forty foot firs outgrowing the boundaries of the window frame, dwarfing…
In the midst of jaw-dropping awe, when voice escapes you, just know that it’s ok to leave your tongue tucked away under the same stone or rotten snag where you found an entire ant colony busying their heads with buried … Continue reading →
Sunlight inspires trees to transpire transcending all earthly desires
What the ceramic sparrows were missing with their beaks perched away from the pane: a rose waving its pink-petaled windmills at tilting bumblebees, forty foot firs outgrowing the boundaries of the window frame, dwarfing our shelters, eavesdropping on history, plants … Continue reading →