Historic
This poem recounts sights and sounds on an early morning walk through an historic neighborhood on the St John's River in Jacksonville, Florida.
nature
Regrets
This poem came to me while driving into a very reddish sunset. At first, I thought it was a short story, some kind of science fiction about the end of the world. But the repetition and rhyme were too insistent. Hope you enjoy this story-poem, and take from it a lesson or two. Thanks for …
Waste
This poem takes an historical approach, describing how different periods of time have collected and then discarded different things. Thanks for coming by to read! Each age has its own. Open sewers running free. Smoke-choked skies and shipwrecked seas. Each age has its own. Letters, piled up to the sky. …
Take Steps
This poem is a bit of a departure from my usual dystopian rants. I think we could all use a little solace now, a little calming communion with Nature. Now that the weather is turning deliciously cool and bearable, in my part of the world, I can’t help but long for that sense of …
My Green Isle
This is a response to What Pegman Saw, a 150-word count challenge based on Google Maps. This week, we are in Ireland, on an island, in the middle of a lake. Such beautiful seclusion clearly appealed to me, a mom of four! A morning glory is a white- or blue-flowered climbing vine that blooms in …