 |
A no longer quite fresh season continues,Yet hope remains, its breath entwines,In days now past, a prodigal to poetry,Returning to seek what heart and..
|
 |
In Tarbolton's hall, steps were taught,Burns learned with grace, his heart yearning.Gregg's skilled hands urged him to soar,The fiddle's song guiding ..
|
 |
In the quiet hum of a mundane day,A fluff-filled presence makes its way,Soft fur, a comforting array,My beloved pet, my heart's ballet.Paws that patte..
|
 |
My grandfather served in the Pacific Theatre of WWII and I had the opportunity of living in the Flanders for a season. The potato incident was also fa..
|
 |
Once, in a land where the earth was rich and ruddy, there lived a crow named Cormac. Unlike other crows who were content with the simplicity of their ..
|
 |
to the tune of “Give Me a Home Among the Gumtrees”
|
 |
Was approached rather directly by a young & emerging poet about the craft & its process, out came this admonition that covers quite a spread of the te..
|
 |
a bit of confessional poetry, not necessarily autobiographical nor an exposé
|
 |
There is somewhere you belong,a realm where the echoes of your youthdance with the whispers of time.As a wee one, you wielded words,the mystery of tho..
|
 |
If I could relive a single day, It would be one wrapped in golden light, The morning sun, a gentle ray, Soft whispers in the air, pure delight. With l..
|
|
|