Wars Not Of Their Making Our boys were sent to foreign lands to fight wars not of their making Many never came back home their mothers’ hearts still aching In battlefields they morphed into men their innocence now squandered Forever altered when they returned because they went over yonder —— Published at Spillwords for Veteran’s […]
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Endless Circle The wedding ring upon my finger an endless reminder of my love for you even though reminders aren’t necessary Satisfied expression that I project providing a clue to what resides within the soul to you which I surrendered I awaken each day fortified with full knowledge and affirmation my one true champion awaits
Convergence: Mars Over Duddo Seven stones of Duddo circle,only five today remain,perched four thousand years,atop this desolate terrain. What prompted manto transport them here,remains fogged in history,quite unlike this night so clear. Little did they know back then,or perhaps they did see,mankind’s time on Earth,comes without a guarantee. Despite the pristine viewfrom this hilltop vantage
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When the Pseudoknot Folds All seems stable before the fold Observing RNA structures never gets old Linkage stems form, fusing the loops Somewhat akin to primordial soup Embedded pseudoknots with thermodynamic equilibrium Have multibranch hairpins exhibiting no structural delirium Pleating process instigates hyperfunction, Pseudoknots now resemble spaghetti junction —— pseudoknot: a double-hairpin structure with an
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Orbiting Tears Been in orbit for 65 years Easier each pass to bring me to tears Weeping was different when just a lad Primarily resulting from something sad I also recognized tears of pain Mostly crying with a varied refrain Barriers dissolve year after year Love now creates most of my tears —— Linked to
I Don’t Have An Accent – You Do Do the people from Toledo have an accent? Do they speak with a brogue or come across plain? I’m referring to the Ohio town on Lake Erie, not the famous place and former capital of Spain. To us it was natural or the Midwestern accent, championed by
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The Young Man Named Lott There was a young man named Lott Knowledge of his kinfolk he sought He took a DNA test And you guessed the rest Daddy was not who he thought Young Lott who was now quite upset Went on to do things he’d regret He began fooling around With women all
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The Book of Me many chapters closed a few still being written newer ones await a happy story unfinished work in progress never be complete covered quite plainly hiding multilayered life tattered edges frayed —— Linked to Reena’s Exploration Challenge Prompt #176 If you are a book, what will the cover look like?
Image: Edward Hopper, Gas, 1940 The Station Manager This being human is harder than it seems It didn’t turn out like it did in my dreams Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a sad song I’ve got love in my life that keeps me strong Oh, I may gripe about this and that But even
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Contemplating My Navel – Flash Fiction “Contemplating my navel” is my usual uttered response when questioned about the expressionless, zombie-like, blankness engulfing my face. Truth be known, I often don’t know what I’m thinking about, or if I’m even thinking at all. It’s really more of a meditative state, on a different plane of consciousness
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