Night After Night (Sevenling poem)

Whispers of darkness
Shards of light
Penetrate night’s depth

Blackness that permeates
Night after long night
Only slivers of light here

Clinical depression haunts


Hold That Word

IrisD , my poem for Poetic Asides April 4 prompt

Sliding away from my thoughts
So close I almost catch it with my tongue
Yet blurring as I try to savor it
What is that nombre that I want
I toss out a random word, and yet
I long to capture the perfect one
You walk away and then, voila
The word whispers through my lips

Turnaround Farm (prompt from Poetic Bloomings)

Turnaround Farm

I moved to a farm that is upside down
The kittens they fly
and the eagles lie down
The pigs moo in their stall
While the dogs munch on corn
The sheep say neigh
While the cow crows all morn
We get milk from the horses
And eggs from the sheep
The butterflies go buzz
While the pup goes peep, peep
Chickens lay by the hearth
And bark at the moon
While the coyotes bleat baa
And wake the raccoon
We eat pizza for breakfast
Oatmeal is for lunch
My fave is the supper
and eggs that go crunch
If you travel the highway
Don”t come here by car
You get here by horseback
Follow the daystar


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Deep Calls To Deep

Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;

All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me.*

Your majesty exceeds my extravagant imagination

Your infinite wisdom surpasses man’s corporate dreams.

One snap of your finger brings mountains to their knees,

While we struggle to move its boulders.

We have absence of war and name it peace,

You are clothed in light that calms even storms at sea.

Man considers a century as longevity

While you always existed and hold keys to eternity.

Big Bird Sings to Mirror

Z Y X W V U T,
S R Q P O N M L K,
J I H,
G F E,
D and C B A.
? me with sing you won’t time Next

Death Row

This cell is as cold as Michigan winters,
as hard as the highways I used to travel.
For months I have been captured,
assigned to this blank cubicle.
My mind alone is allowed to escape,
to explore the world beyond these bars.
Stramgers read my mail, order my day,
set my routines, cook my meals.
The only decision left to me is
whether to open my eyes or feign sleep
whenever they bring my tray.
The bars are on my hospital bed,
my ward is a retirement home.
The nurses are the wardens and
my sentence is life.
In death I will once again be free
to wander and explore.
I embrace death that I might
live life once more.
The b


May 2018
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