Education: MA English; BA French.
Profession: Software trainer for health care organization.
Hobbies: Avid reader and movie buff. Light hiking and long walks in the woods.
Most of the 19th century Romantics, William Carlos Williams, and a host of others.
Poetic ... more »
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Sonny Rainshine Poems
A Leaf Refuses To Fall
The leaves don’t let go that easily either. It takes a bluster, a filabuster of north wind, and the wasp-sting of the first
He stayed up half the night collecting one hundred fireflies in a mason jar. Just before midnight he unscrewed the lid and released them inside the screen porch.
1 Is Easy
One sex, one race, one religion, one face. One thought, one nation, one dream, one altercation—
Apology For Poetry
Some say that people who like poetry live in a rarefied world populated with pretty words
In what she referred to as Reverse Art, she decided to re-create Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” in an arrangement of real blooms
After The Rain
One Chinese lantern, forgotten when the lawn party was spoiled by a summer downpour, waves in the drizzly wind
An Oak's Progress
An acorn drops, piercing the leafy humus. Heavy rain in the night entrenches it
21st Century Rant
Growth! Progress! Expansion! Then downsize it all when it gets too bloated, and if that doesn’t work, lower the borrowing rates
Haiku: Hail Storm
Pearls from a necklace
She reached for grapes and grasped a cluster of words, which she crushed in her fingers to make a concoction of nouns
Every day we fish. We cast our lures and our flies into the rippling reservoir of life and wish for a nibble.
3 Seconds Before The Shot
The brown doe for a moment mesmerizes the boys in camouflage, broadcasting a telepathic message: I stand before you here,
Haiku: Sweet Breakfast
Aroma of fresh ground coffee and apple pie:
A Leaf Refuses To Fall
The leaves don’t let go
that easily either. It takes a bluster,
a filabuster of north wind,
and the wasp-sting of the first
chill of late September
to tear them off the page
Persuasion doesn’t do it.
Sometimes in the middle of winter,
(the DEAD of winter, as they say)
you might see one shriveled
oakleaf, dangling from a frozen
filament of stem,
Nothing likes to end;
the October wind invites
the leaf to tango in the frosty air.
A shy curtsey, a twirling turn,
a pirouette, then the dance