Prompt 4 Tá Brón Orm

Tá brón orm – The sorrow is on me. I’m sorry sounds so much better in Irish than English. Tá brón orm. I started this marathon late. My house had some flooding last night. Tá brón orm. The cable guy is repairing the signal and…

I’m Alive, Hour Seven

I’m Alive It’s summer, and I know I’m alive. I used to endure it, dreaming away the days, as summer has no filter, its brazenness abashes more timid souls, cowering from its bold and sweaty hand away into air conditioned, cool, dim interiors. My garden…

The Swing – A Viator Poem

Surrounded by sunflowers Sitting on a swing Toes dragging in the dirt My mind wandering on her – I try to gather courage Surrounded by sunflowers Toes drawing hearts in the dirt Wishing she was at my side – Toes retracing her name Seeing her…

Horseshoe Lake (Prompt 7)

Red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish undulating with the most minute of waves unsyncopated rhythm, delicate gliding over water – visual mantra of my youth sitting on the end of grandparents’ dock red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish patience a virtue strange to age nine unless passing…

A getaway

Our backyard, a world of its own Secluded and quiet A forest of flowers Bursting with color Varieties of birds Seen no where else Ruled by fairies and trolls In hidden hollows Three turns around the bush With the white Pom Pom flowers Takes you…

Message in a Bottle

The sun alights the horizon as waves crash onto shore, throwing their wet blanket onto the sand, and then pulling it away again. Each time the water recedes, a small bottle is revealed, tossed and jostled in the chaos until it finally is left behind…

Palisade

On the rolling cart, wooden fruit box. Narrow slats pasted up with color labels.   Thin nails, loose on one corner. Juice is leaking, dribbling down, dripping on the floor.

Hour 7

Ukraine is a land of freedom A land of glorious mountains, Exotic waters, wonders of the world, and rich plains with a limitless urge to Grow, share, and provide. Our culture never seeks to amaze that Ukraine is a land of freedom Urging each human…

Too Much Month (Hour Four, A Nonet)

Too Much Month   Got paid today, got me a pocket full of change. Ding dong, dang doorbell rings. Landlord’s got his hand held out. Crank my truck, tank’s on E. Gut growls, FEED ME SEYMOUR! No more money, still too much month.    …

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