They followed sly fox, through the cement surrounded trees. Lil’ Red, keeping pace With black bear, Who’s ready to hibernate. They see the sky-blue pink, poka~dotted, artistic walls As they stroll along Sucking the life, From paint, into words In ekphrastic forms. Poets,…
Category: Musings
Hour 20 Not My Genre
Not my genre I find it hard to describe art, that I can’t get into. No offense to the painter, it’s all good and in the pupils to remember.
Coalition
Cunning fox, lithe red form and brave, black bear lead the girl over sidewalk through concrete jungle decorated with a spray can among leftover flora. Or maybe, she leads them.
Hour Nineteen
Memories are nasty things Kicking up dust Settling into corners Sometimes, yesterday Weighs so heavy I cannot get out of bed My therapist says I live In the past, forget today He lacks credibility, though right It’s his talk of religion I mistrust, foul concept…
HOUR 19 HUH??
HUH?? “Welcome home!” “Thank you,” he said to appease me. “How are you?” my sentence began. He replied, “I’m fine, how are you, my old friend? Now there’s someone who knows where respect grows. Pardon me, if I lose you, on this one. …
Ode to the Unicorns
Majestic horses! Him like black tourmaline, the blackness sparkling. Her, the purest healing white. They are the Unicorns. The elongated, twisted horns upon their heads. The truest, purest, Ace of Wands. Magically charms all it touches. Mysterious creatures, where are you now? How…
The Problem With Spiders and Flies
Was the spider’s parlor draped with webs when the fly entered? Stupid fly. Even the idiot Tuffet had sense to run.
Shattered
I’ll never forget the night the night I begged you to stay the night I tried to convince you that we were worth staying for that we were better than any drug you could consume I laid myself down on the floor, on my knees…
musing
life always something personal and private yet life as a poet always meet a certain clique or audience always be kind light and love forever a traveler in this space and time
Word Warrior
I am a Word Warrior I beat on my chest and sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world Walt would be proud with the way I wield my pen that is mightier than any sword That I carry in my arsenal armed with…