A tiny mottled maple leaf
appeared outside my window pane.
Its superficial veiny face
Clung wet glass precariously.
...
I see his book of poetry
Master poet of bygone years
And from his grave he speaks to me
With inaudible words quite clear.
...
I also loved Ginny, Edgar.
Though mine is an imagined love
It's nonetheless deeper than yours.
When I recite 'Annabel Lee'
...
When kids my age were searching for
Heroes, the likes of Roy Rodgers,
Gene Autry, Hoppy and John Wayne
I already had my idol.
...
I need no shelter from the rain
I'll not run for cover from it.
I'll not be plaintive or complain
I love its wetness I admit.
...
The entire world was silenced
And from the darkness emerged, Truth;
Lost since the paradise garden
Abandoned for cupidity;
...
The autumn sun shines through the near naked trees exposing recent abandoned thrush nests those months before were hidden from Mans eyes. The lingering colored, crisp, dying leaves precariously cling until late November winds and rain end their brief lives leaving only their scented remains on the ground.
A scorpion sun shines through near naked
...
This poem was written after the seasons last snowfall, a few days before spring 2009.
It began with a single flake of snow
That fell upon my brow so gently down.
...
This poem is dedicated to my loving wife.
Our hearts adjoined some ages past
In the summertime of our lives.
...
Can’t sleep again for some reason
perhaps I’m drinking too much tea.
Well, whatever the cause, it’s done.
I’ll try again later…maybe!
...