Poetry

Words tumble out of me. Some I manage to catch in the form of poetry.

My heart is breaking

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

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Buying flowers

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

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My Mom

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

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Early Christmas Tree

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

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Skeletons of Summer

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

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