Femia Cools

grass quivering

harping on spring’s
...

Venice

in our voices
...

rainstorm awakes me
the iPod's concert ended
public clapping loud
...

It is chiefly
the hump on his back
that gives grandeur
to the gait of the bearer
...

...

my runaway train
stops dead in its tracks
wound down engine
...

after sunset

in gold rimmed clouds
...

I wanted to know

dragonfly, in Hopi.
...

standing at window

waiting for the night to end
...

one would think
when I am writing you a poem
that words come easily
like the flies on my bread
...

summer rain hiding

in rush hour clouds passing through
...

on a starless day
no fish no way
it sucks
so said Piet
...

at the roadside

a wet bird
...

Art surprises
Art makes conscious
Art communicates
...

if my heart knew the key
I would sing about our Valentine
in a pure, soft, wavy way
with a sweet and lovely chorus
...

the child jumped over the frog
the frog jumped over the child
the child jumped over the frog again
the frog jumped over the child again
...