What is the measure
Of Beauty
Within my hand?
Is it in my hair
...
Six minutes until the turn of the clock.
Five minutes until I must get up.
Four minutes to muse and delight myself.
Three minutes to ponder the nature of self-
...
Honor is a pretty thing,
Bright and shined
Yet easily lost, not soon
Regained.
...
You Come Too
I'm going to write a poem now, a little thing-
Not much to it. A line, a verse, a meter
...
Who knows what's is in
A poet's heart-it could be
Rainbows and candy apples
Ferris wheels or Topsy Turvys
...
I saw a leaf fall today
Burnt orange oak
Drifting down alone -
All its fellows
...
That a child mixed a broken breed
Purposely denied her own fault
In it. I did not cry wolf out to My
Lagging defenders, nor know that
...
I watch as a slim
Young man, dressed in
Tweeds and patches on the
Elbows, squats down with a handful of
...
They say muses
Are allotted to writers,
Poets, and such.
Mine must be
...