Words tumble out of me. Some I manage to catch in the form of poetry.
I had to find a way to process the epidemic of gun violence. The sorrow and anger are overwhelming me. As I usually do when I’m hurting, I turn to writing poetry. My poems allow me to say what I need to say. The poetry may not be all that good as far as style …
I had to buy flowers today. Dining room table was asking That I throw the dead ones away. But those were the last ones from My flower beds, and I didn’t Want to toss them just yet. I get so sad at the end Of growing season. The decaying Heads of old friends who have …
So small in the arms of the priest No, his words cannot be true My babe can’t rend the world we know Nor sword cleave my heart in two Yet we’d had to flee for safety Our world turned upside-down Dwelling among strangers Later settled in a distant town Then this boy, no longer a …
I lost my mother on August 23, 2021. I still am processing this. It is hard to come to grips with the fact that I will never see her again this side of death. I will never hear her laugh, listen to her stories, share gossip, or cook together again. My heart is full of …
By a beaver dam I saw you Perfectly formed Standing alone Tiny, yet grown Waiting to be adorned Stature so true Along the stream I gathered Flowers in seed Gossamer garlands Leaves like star hands Simplicity my creed Raw beauty mattered Reflected in the stream surely Standing proudly Humbly festooned My tree says soon We’ll …
Look at the changes as Nature prepares to slumber. You’ll see Skeletons everywhere. They remind us of how death is a major part of life. Rest well, and be ready for re-birth. Ever notice how bare trees look like skeletons? In a Winter’s wind is the Dance Macabre. Are they animated by the residual warmth …
Having cast off emerald garments Trees shamelessly flaunt their nakedness Swaying in the ever colder winds Of November Imparting scanty warmth to upturned faces and Golden kisses upon Queen Anne’s Lace Slanted sunlight throws the long shadows Of November Standing as sentry at field’s edges Lone cornstalks mourn fallen comrades Twisted and mangled on the …
Excuse me Mr. Pumpkin, I couldn’t help but see How flawless is your rind As orange as can be And now I really must tell you Though slightly shy to say Please don’t take this wrong It’s a compliment I’ll pay My intentions are truly genuine I mean no hurt or harm When I say …
Along road edges and throughout fallow fields By the hundreds you see them The spicy mustard color of Goldenrods. One’s first reaction to seeing them Is to gasp at the spectacle, so Overwhelming is the color of Goldenrods What once possessed just various shades of green Now have the tones of sunshine That deep summer …
