Tag Archives: Poets

Gone to the Bone

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~ Nine-Seven-Eight Sits on a corner, A city, a street, Somewhere. A high wooden fence Surrounds The grounds: A compound In semblance In air. Nine-Seven-Eight. No one seems home. But people Do live there, I swear! It’s quiet, Threadbare, And gone in the bone: Secret, Private, Alone. Three quarters A score Of years, Maybe more, […] Continue reading →

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this too’s gotta go

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a squirrel runs around first up and then down atop of an old wooden fence where not far below a dog is in tow the quick squirrel she wishes to mince it’s back to and fro these two will both go it’s seems like some kind of a dance a tangled web do these two […] Continue reading →

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Autotelism

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~ I Write my own Poetry on plain white paper, the ‘Puter won’t do it for me. With a pencil in hand, and eraser effect, I’m a man from the last Century. And No One will read my Poetry, except for the few friends I have. Not famous, I’m No One; no surprises, you’ll see […] Continue reading →

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Eudaimonia

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~ The birds all fall in accolades, on mornings in Central Virginia. Colorful chorals that escalade –      pro forma,      concerti,      eudaimonia. On and on, no stoppage the song, way long when morning’s forgotten. All in all, a sound, a funk; melodious risings, to mountains! I might hear Thelonius Monk. […] Continue reading →

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Summer Magic

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~ Those deep May days, someone will say, somewhere in Central Virginia:      It’s the end of the month, where people will jump –      Winter is gone from Virginia. And boys wearing flip-flops watch girls in their gym shorts take out their pups for short walks, from porches. And from such enclosures, […] Continue reading →

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if it quacked like a duck

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~ a neighbor spends hours each day of the week shifting through flowers a garden she keeps and when days turn rainy the days dark and deep she goes deep inside but outside she weeps she can’t be with gardens in flowers she seeks but stays in her house where otherwise sleeps where neighbors are […] Continue reading →

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Shards of Gray Glass

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~ Each piece, a poem; the leaf of a tree – The common connection, poetry. Caedmon began his in England; where no one at such time should know him. O Sappho, of Lesbos, what be thy fame? Shards of gray glass antiquity claims? Ideas hold fast; when all comes to pass, nothing holds past, all […] Continue reading →

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We’re Not The Gods

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~ The last words you’ve said, To someone you love – Will they be of something substantial? The future unfolds into what, We’re not told – It might just be best to be natural. And then there’s the hope, From the ones whom you love – The feelings which comeback be mutual. But we’ll never […] Continue reading →

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Farewell to all that

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~ Farewell to the ocean, the notion of fun; warm days and sun rays, California sun. Goodbye to the patrons who wished for us well; Farewell to the chevron, two years of hell. Comes now the moment, we knew that it would, lying once latent, it shows when it should. Adios, mis amigos; adieu, everyone. […] Continue reading →

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Light in Darkness

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~ Darkness envelopes the light of a porch as rainclouds develop to heighten the dark. O Light! Poor Light, like some lonely torch, seeking awareness, but being is stark. It burns through the night, staying its course; a starkness in presence belies its life force. And Night will be quiet, just wind makes the sound, […] Continue reading →

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Snowclones

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…. June loves a dog, we all can guess why, the last days of Spring before Summer. Gray’s the new Grey, X the new Y, and Fall still awakens the wonder. And April is gone, in the blink of an eye. A past moves along with a simper. We’re out here, again, out near the […] Continue reading →

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Poor Whip-Poor-Will

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…. Here then, a tale as told by a Grannie to Grandson, giving her hell. As this story goes, it’s really quite old and rose from the dust of New Mexico…. ~ This much I know, when politics fail it fails for just most folks, greatly. Failure qua failure is failure the more, no matter […] Continue reading →

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Avengeance

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…. I’ve wasted much time body and spirit, on drugs of a kind: those of a poet. The rhymes in the mind, the beats to the brain, sometimes explosive! but oft times inane. Always compulsive, this poet’s own bane; always addictive, it drives me insane. A magic in numbers, in word counts, to blame; this […] Continue reading →

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The Metal of Man

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…. The Duke City’s known the Sun, before shown Coronado and those of his friends; and the Old Ones, they knew, the Wind, as it blew the Sun West to East and then send into the darkness, the black of the night, Stars shining brightly, Stars into flight, the room for the Moon to come […] Continue reading →

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