REBIRTH

Here is a poem I wrote.

REBIRTH

Madronas hung precariously along the bluff in irregular fashion.

They shed their bark like creamy butter, rolling from a knife,

And fall as rotten apples to the ground.

Brittle leaves, once vibrant and glossy,

Crumble like dry, caked mud,

Tumbling into the pile of defecation.

The earth embraced their warmth,

As worms danced in a comical masquerade,

Forming compost around the trunks.

Their lives sustained,

The branches caress the dirt,

And buds sprout from their limbs.

Clad in newly grained burnt-orange bark,

Green leathery leaves emerge,

And white pyramid flowers blossom.

The Madronas have

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rebirthed.

The Vamp

Here is a silly Halloween poem.

She creeps and crawls away from the light,

Cloaked inside the shadow of night.

Masquerades as a foggy mist,

Rocking and rolling into a fit.

She spits out venom, obscenities, and lies,

Slithering and sliding into disguise.

She’ll poison your heart if she gets inside,

Turning and twisting until you’re fried.

She’ll drink your blood and freeze your soul.

She’s a Halloween vamp and as bold as they go.

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TABLE of PLENTY

Their heads bobbing up and down,

Doves peck the ground,

Resembling sewing machine needles,

Eager for fallen seeds.

Squirrels climb the pole

And hang upside down,

Stretching to reach the sunflower seeds.

Little birds flutter round,

Red-headed finches, wrens, and dark-headed chick-a-dees,

Inching their way to feed,

on the variety of seeds.

But woe to the keeper

That plucks the empty shells from the ground

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of the scattered seeds.

Coming of Age

Here is my recent poem that was published by Art Ascent Magazine. The theme was youth.

Bloom of youth had receded,

Leaving the purpose of her face.

Eyes once spontaneous, observing at random,

Now narrowed and lined.

Lips once plump, sensuous, and inviting,

Are now firm and pinched.

Cheeks once soft and full of life,

Are hollowed and sagging.

Hair once vibrant and shiny,

Now thinned and a dull gray.

If a child is the bud,

And the teen a blossomed flower,

What then is the senior?

A has-been, spent,

Decayed, and forgotten?

Oh, youth,

I know you are there somewhere,

Hidden in the folds of her past,

Brought out in the light,

At the simplicity of life.

Let not the senior be consumed in the fire and forgotten,

But give her treasures of wisdom and experience to the fawns,

So that they may learn from it, yet enjoy their youth while it is still here,

And not fear the coming of age.

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Leaving The Nest

A solid mass shoulders the world,

Broad and endearing,

A wide expanse of open arms, yet a blanket of comfort

That enfolds the toughest of mongrels under her charm.

Her children, stacked from shortest to tallest,

Pillars of glistening treasures,

Claw the sky and push away her skirts,

In their eagerness to stand on their own.

Remember your roots she pleads,

Releasing them an inch at a time,

Drawing them back for one last hug,

Before they’ve gone into the world and muddied their path.

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RUE the DAY

Here is a poem for when you’re feeling angry.

 

Hope ground into garnet glass, washing love’s hair gray,

As heartbreak flooded the blood-stained street.

Her nostrils flared, her palate full of lust,

Desire not quenched or rinsed,

Rage hurtled from the cracks.

Anger her shield and revenge her sword,

She charged toward her enemy.

 

Revenge raked her sword across the demon’s face,

Ripping away his cloak of deceit,

His wounds raw and peeled open to truth,

he begged for mercy,

But the lioness licked the crimson from her blade,

And watched with unforgiving eyes.

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