Oops! I was brain dead this week. Sorry for posting this so late. The World spins around Like a dradle in the sky Will it stop someday? Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Written Feb. 7, 1983. I stay inside the dark and weary castle keep. It is lonely. I know loneliness. She is my friend. Outside is cold. There are many vicious things out there. The many pronged whip that beats on you until you’re a bloody pulp. The razor that slices souls. The knife that creeps…
Written in 1983. I see an image made of dust. This is something I cannot trust. But what of broadswords that are thrust? Soon their valor turns to rust.
This was written May 18, 1984. I stand alone, as I always will. Friends come and go, but all the while I stand alone. Just a molecule of air, am I, tossed about by the wind. I see, and know, and love others but they go and I see, know and love more. Always there…
This poem is an exercise in creating scenes with strong sensory information. Breathe. Fill your nostrils with the smokey scent of your neighbor’s barbecue. Breathe. Listen to the rustle of pine needles brushing against each-other in the breeze. Breathe. Soak in the starlight slowly spinning in the dark blue sky. Breathe. Fill yourself with the…
This month’s work of art is a real throw back — to the times of the cave dwellers. Hyeana mother Guards her young pup from harm’s way Don’t cross this Momma! Originally posted on 52 Haiku
