Spirits of the Bog
Beneath the twilight’s reddened glow
where silvered waters softly flow,
the maples flame against the reeds
and bullfrogs leap and hide in weeds.
Category: Metrical
Paper Voyages
With cradle-hands I’ve hemmed-in worlds And fingertipped the pages And often I’ve been borne aloft In wind-filled sails of phrases …
The Last Resort
There is a secret hideaway, idyllic, out of reach of poets, where our muses congregate. They gather on the golf …
Soul Fires
The god of thunder pierced the clouds with his electric riff. Prometheus though chained, unbowed, saw lightning strike the cliff …
All in the Same Boat
You’re late! Forgive me, just a little joke I use to put my passengers at ease. Or otherwise some newly …
Warmth
A baby rests his sweaty head against my rising chest. His gentle snoring melts all dread, the bass that leads …
Liminal Space of Dawn
We watch the fading back of darkness edge / sway and feel the shrinking chill on flesh /which lies-or is it mouths?- in cooling air; / averse to moving from our rumpled bed.
Resurrection
A field of grass, a sea of green / where flowers wild, like dabs of paint, / add vibrancy to Nature’s scene –