Unspoken Word
January 25, 2017
They Are Still Laughing

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Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:50 PM | Comments (0)

January 05, 2017
THIS THIRST

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There is an aching deep within my heart
that cannot be explained.
It wakes me in the middle of the night
and write these lines --
a kind of fishing in a great sea I cannot find by day.
This escapade is not the search for something new,
it is not the need to find --
more it is the being moved,
my being pulled by an unseen moon,
how small birds, when days get cold,
make their way across dark skies
to the place where they were born,
how a feather falls to earth
and a child, finding it, looks up,
why dogs pace back and forth before a door
as their master turns for home.
Ah, this restlessness, this thirst, this ache,
this silent undertow inside
that takes me back to the hidden spring
where lions come to drink,
and snakes,
why birds sing when they are all alone
and the long ride home on an empty train
often feels like an arrival.

Painting: Evelyne Pouget

Excerpted from Full Moon at Sunrise

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 10:53 PM | Comments (0)

January 02, 2017
Now You See It

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We are here for just a little while,
freshly fallen snow
on a half-opened rose.
That's it. No more.
It doesn't take much
for the vanishing act
to begin,
a burst of sun,
a sudden breeze
someone knocking on our door
and we are gone, done,
a tale told by a friend
tending his garden at dusk.

One more for you

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 06:39 PM | Comments (0)

“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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© Mitch Ditkoff