Why Groundhog Day Is My Favorite Holiday No presents to buy or gifts to wrap, no cards to send, no cake to bake, no songs to sing, no special greetings to remember, no decorations to hang or take down, no invitations to send, no special clothes or costumes to wear, no holiday visitors dropping by, […]
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Tintern Abbey Are you art, architecture, or are you heavenly sent? One thing for certain time with you is well spent Built of old red sandstone spanning 400 years nearly a millennium later you have very few peers Sitting stoic and majestic along side the river Wye remains of transept gables point up toward the
Quadrille Defined in a Quadrille Your word count shall equal forty-four On the dot, no less, no more Include the prompt word or an alternate form Construct it this way and strictly conform Rhyme if you wish, but it’s not required Now link your quadrille for others to admire —— Linked to dVerse Poets Pub
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Bluebird Speaks Here I sit, eating red berries, amongst the new-fallen snow that’s softer than an old baby sweater. You probably thought my color was solid blue, but my breast is brown as a cello, making me better. Humans are usually unaware of my nocturnal traits, my slumber provides dreams just as vivid as yours.
Daylight receded, conversation diminished, distractions vanished, then fervent kissing ushered one passionate interlude. —— This tanka was written in response to Experiments in Fiction Poetry Challenge #14: Tanka. I attempted to embrace the traditional use of the form as a note between lovers, and I even delivered a hand-written version to my lover be read
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It was a travel day, and like most travel days, our goal was a simple one of getting from point A to point B. On this particular day (May 21, 2017), our starting point was Pula, Croatia. Unlike our previous travel days on this trip, we did not have a specific destination planned and had
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It Rains For Us Before the rain arrived as the new leaf withered the Garden of Eden pleaded “help us” During the quenching rains the matcha grew stronger soothing the dragon beast in all of us Throughout the downpour, with survival secured, we held a grand black tie celebration for us After the storm, the
Ticker Tape Machine I sit here in my little glass dome Peering out at the tape I’ve thrown I gaze at the people as they scrutinize me Some wear frowns, others exhibit glee My motor grinds away like gnashing of teeth As the paper advances from underneath With the clacking sound of an Underwood Numbers
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This Is Not a Pen This is not a pen I hold It’s a means of getting stories told It doesn’t put down ink on paper It solidifies what once was vapor It’s a creator of characters and digits It might even draw a brand new widget Occasionally it becomes an artist But in my
Dab Questions How big is a dab? Inquiring minds want to know Is it larger than a smidgen, or smaller than a toe? Can a dab be a solid or does it need to flow? Will it stay one size or will it start to grow? —— Linked to dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille #119 –
