Published inThe Daily Cuppa·2 days agoMember-onlyAutumn’s Here and I Hardly NoticedSunday sonnet — Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inThe Howling Owl·6 days agoMember-onlyIt Rains and the Leaves Are SwirlingA dizain — The Howling Owl1 min readThe Howling Owl1 min read
Published inThe Daily Cuppa·Sep 17Member-onlyIn The Slanted September SunSunday sonnet — Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inDancing Elephants Press·Sep 16Member-onlyMoments of EternityA poem about the book — Dancingelephantspress1 min readDancingelephantspress1 min read
Published inThe Daily Cuppa·Sep 10Member-onlyStill Some Life Left in The SeasonSunday sonnet — There’s time enough. Seed embryos will form in flat husks hanging in the wind-blown sun. These coin shaped kites are flapping up a storm on paper drawn so taught a tale is spun. They’ll soon fly free of worn down mother’s cord. Same silver dollars gone and tarnished brown. It’s high time…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inThe Daily Cuppa·Sep 3Member-onlySeptember Slips in So Softly and SilentlySunday sonnet — Voracious slugs can’t keep up as these huge hibiscus flowers bloom this and that way with skeletonized leaves, lace subterfuge. September slipped in and it plans to stay long as a month does last or thereabouts with chomping slugs, tree frogs and buzzing bees. Some change has happened. I’ve lost those last…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inScuzzbucket·Aug 31Member-onlyLet’s Go Now or I’m Not LeavingA poem — Why this incessant desire to bask in shining light when I keep changing my own mind about these precious words gleaming bright while expecting that the rest might catch up as drifting ever-shifting trends refresh us? It’s easy to believe I’ll always write this stuff. Fierce phrases fitting in forgotten places…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inThe Lark·Aug 30Member-onlyFriendly Flower Fun in the Summer SunA summery sonnet — Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published inThe Daily Cuppa·Aug 27Member-onlyOn Goldenrod the Bees Are GatheringSunday sonnet — The sunshine broke through where those long dead ash trees fell in last night’s rain from their sharp tilt to land in piles of tangled vines. They smash some bird and squirrel nests to be rebuilt. There still is time enough. We’re here to stay. On goldenrod the bees are gathering as…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
