Poetry

The Road Home

The Road Home – Flash Fiction All signs of sobriety had evaporated by the time my third double arrived. The rye was going down smoothly, converging with the blood stream, doing its job. Eventually reaching my limit, gravity yanked me down off the barstool. I stumbled out of the bar and commenced staggering home. A […]

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The Centralia Massacre (a war poem)

The Centralia Massacre (a war poem and true story) Camped southeast of Centralia town, the Rebel force was strong More than just a rag-tag bunch, trained guerrillas made up this throng Not officially sanctioned by the South, but not considered wrong The northbound train pulled into town on that brisk September morn 22 retired Union

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Tintern Abbey

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

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Bluebird Speaks

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.

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