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.

nature summer yellow animal

Photo by Pixabay on



Died for Our Country

One look at his rival, in hope for survival,

the soldier laid down his arms.

He put on a brave front, taking the brunts,

as his adversary did him some harm.

He was beaten, tortured, and tied to a tree,

no hope of ever feeling free.

The soldier thought of his family and wife,

as his opponent smiled, then plunged in the knife.

He fought for his country, his family, and life.

In honor, dignity, and freedom he strived.

So, wave that flag proudly.

Salute that young man,

who died for us,sunset-flag-america-fields.jpg protecting our land.

Packed Memories

Here is a poem I wrote about a woman missing her deceased husband and he came to call.

Packed Memories

By Theresa Gage

She journeyed to his study for the hundredth time today,

Sure she heard him calling to pick up his tray,

But it’s only the knocking of rain on the windowpane.

Her eyes gazed at his jacket, lying in his chair,

And she rubbed his rough sleeve across her hair,

Finding comfort and not so alone,

As she inhaled his pipe tobacco and his Old Spice cologne.

She brewed a pot of coffee,

Strong the way he liked it,

Even though she preferred tea.

She waddled over and clicked on the T.V.,

To the sports station she endeared the past twenty years.

She doesn’t have the energy for things woebegone,

As she sighs at his tangled fishing gear and his projects left undone.

She toddled to the kitchen and tied up her hair,

Then placed his plate next to his dining chair,

And proceeded to cook his favorite dish

Of fried potatoes, onions, and fish.

He’s been gone over a year, but she waits near the door,

As the clock struck the hour of four.pexels-photo-372176.jpeg

With the tail of her apron, she  wiped her eyes,

And glanced outside.

To her surprise, he appeared once more,

And she flung open the door

And he walked inside.





Terza rima Poetry

A Terza rima is a form of poetry with a rhyming verse stanza consisting of an interlocking 3-line rhyme scheme. The end word of second line to supply rhyme for first and third lines. Here is my example:

They rose from the dead

like gorgeous towers

in brilliant blue, yellow, and red.

Oh, they have such powers

to strike love in my heart

with the sight of their blooming flowers.

I hate to see them part,

For it seemed they just got here.

So, I’ll take them to the mart

and everyone will peer

at my dazzling beauties,IMG_0359

before they’re gone for another year.

The Diminishing Verse Style of Poetry

Here is a different form for those who like to write poetry. It’s called the diminishing verse. There are no rules, rhymes, syllables, or stanza length.  All you do is remove the first letter of the end word from the previous line. Here is what I came up with:

Summer has left a trace,

Flowers fried in the wake of heat’s race,

Immobile husks remain like death’s ace.

Glamor has gone where?

Certainly not here

All this was a gift, ere

the light fades, think not for Autumn is unbelievably smart,

for it parades its paint board mart

like pieces of fine art.

Orange, red, and gold spray

leaves that seem to pray,

frozen treasures shine like a golden ray.

Where did summer’s glamor stray?

It seemed to pass the tray.

Now Autumn has entombed its beauty like a rainbow ray.