Published in The Daily Cuppa·1 day agoMember-onlyThe First Flower of Spring Has SprungSunday sonnet — Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published in Paper Poetry·3 days agoMember-onlyAlways Be A Poet Even In ProseA poem for Charles Baudelaire — And I should choose my words as artfully to speak my truth as I consider it as Baudelaire wrote drunk remarkably on opium, hashish, French wine a bit, and more while watching evil flowers bloom with wretchedness of our vile humanity, this poetry of yearning hearts and doom, a flaneur’s convalescence, lavishly…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published in The Daily Cuppa·Mar 19Member-onlyThe Snow Isn’t Finished With Us YetSunday sonnet — The winter started out so slow this year. Appearing late, It seemed it wouldn’t come. But now mid-March and look, it’s snowing here. Spring’s on its way, though winter’s not quite done. Just yesterday new spears of daffodil were poking through the melted ice and leaves. Yet, snowy season hadn’t had it’s…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published in Dancing Elephants Press·Mar 19Member-onlyThe Snow and The Blue of WaterPrompt 6 of 52 colors of joy a poem in terza rima — This wet and heavy snow fell all day long I look outside and peer into those cracks. Snow shades with dark as daytime storms along. And yet it’s unmistakable. Relax. This joyful color pulls me out the door. A smile upon my face, it stops my tracks. Our great blue…Dancingelephantspress2 min readDancingelephantspress2 min read
Published in Dancing Elephants Press·Mar 13Member-onlyThe Color of Fruit Feeds Our LifeDancing Elephants Press prompt 23 of 52 — We ran while screeching through the lower fields and milkweed patch so many years ago to black raspberry plants with their huge yields on arching canes as wind began to blow and high above the yellowed grass meadow in warm late summer’s softly fading light with butterflies above we felt the bite of green-head…Poetry2 min readPoetry2 min read
Published in The Daily Cuppa·Mar 12Member-onlyThe Winter Wakes With Some Joyful SoundSunday sonnet — A twee- dee- dee-dee echoes out in song from branching lilac canopy above. Below, in snow, where sun won’t shine for long hear coo, coo, cooing of a mourning dove. A tufted titmouse sings the same old tune. It sits with bright black eyes so patiently. These birds do know that things…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published in Dancing Elephants Press·Mar 10Member-onlyAuthors Bio for Dancing Elephants Press Poetry BookA sonnet — The first name’s William, born with it somehow. His middle’s James and Spirdione last. He claims to be some sort of poet now, though some might laugh, think poetry is past. He’ll always find a good excuse to write and always lived in these United States. He’s growing older scribbling all his…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Published in Paper Poetry·Mar 9Member-onlyAbracadabra and Then It HappenedA twittle — I’m chained behind this locked door. See abracadabra in tiny letters. Read word. Do nothing more. Door opens. Off come fetters. Written in response to Indubala Kachhawa and her Paper Poetry, Magical March prompt: ABRACADABRA, “I create as I speak.” The prompt ends soon, in less than a week, and…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
Mar 7Member-onlyMe, Both Sides of This Snowy ScreenAn inner creation in ottava rima — The snow is really coming down right now. Flakes falling furiously on both screens. The inside and the outside, both somehow fall silent, quieting these snowy scenes. The flittering of birds and thoughts allow me to fall back. Self centered thoughts now dreams. It’s all too real or maybe none of it. It’s all the same and…Poetry2 min readPoetry2 min read
Published in The Daily Cuppa·Mar 5Member-onlyWinter Color On This Bright Cold MorningSunday sonnet — With blue and red, love’s colors in the cold on bluebirds, cardinals, quite nice to see. They flitter ‘round this feeder, oh so bold, through snow and ice carved silver filagree. A hint of gold when yellow lights a spark and fills those spaces that the snow won’t quite stick to…Poetry1 min readPoetry1 min read
