Theresa Ann Moore Poems

Rush hour and my four year old son is very tired.
merging into a long line of cars on the highway
barely able to see ahead through the heavy rain.
Suddenly a thunderous jetliner roar is heard overhead,
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The sun dips behind a silhouette of the apartments.
There are no honking horns or screeching brakes.
Clipping a short leash to Brownie’s choke chain,
he anxiously jumps up and down.
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Our Home

It’s small wooden frame house
With sturdy timbers that reassure.
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He strides low to the ground,
Legs crouching ready to pounce
Waiting patiently without a sound,
Muscles steady, ready to trounce.
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The world of reality has many dimensions
Metaphors elevate the reach of normality
Truth is poetry, music and artistic expression
Breathing lasting life into existing totality
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For just a few more cents
You can super size your fries
For just a few more cents
A drink can satisfy King Kong
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Palindromes say the same
Whether forwards or reverse
It is like a word brain game
The meaning is never diverse
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In the cold of winter an inner light glows
The days are dreary and the nights are long
Inches climb covering everything with snow
Faintly in the distance I hear a familiar song
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2007 will soon be history
Its jaws will shut permanently
Worn teeth have their last chew
Say goodbye to the expired menu
...