Posts tagged ‘peom’

POEMS AND RANDOM THOUGHTS: SNOW

I wrote this poem some years ago.  I drag it out every winter at the appropriate time. for those of us on the East Coast, this is the right time.

This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells.

 

THE SNOW

 

 

 

See the delicate snowflakes fall,

Falling, falling, falling.

Whitening the earth, awaiting below,

Falling, falling, falling.

 

See the mounds of glittering white,

Building, building, building.

As they hide the ground from sight,

Building, building, building.

 

See the ceaseless falling snow,

Falling, falling, falling.

Will it stop, no one quite knows,

Falling, falling, falling.

 

See the drifts accumulate,

Building, building, building.

My longing for spring will no longer wait,

Building, building, building.

 

SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,

HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.

MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,

HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.

 

SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,

GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,

CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,

SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.

 

 

 

January 22, 2016 at 10:55 pm 2 comments

MY POEM PUBLISHED IN ‘STILL CRAZY’

The literary journal, Still Crazy, has published my poem, Sunday Park Bench, in their July 2014 issue.

They describe their publication as, ‘A literary magazine written by and about people over age 50 but designed to appeal to thoughtful people of all ages’.

If you want to give it a try, here’s a link.

http://www.crazylitmag.com/index.php

July 3, 2014 at 5:30 pm 1 comment

PUBLISHED POEM

Once again, in 1984, I had a poem published by New Worlds Unlimited in their anthology, Voices of the Majestic Sage.

NIGHT RAIN

The darkened hush of an autumn evening,
a distant murmur and a world of sound approaches.
The window sweats great flowing beads
yet in darkness
where colors turn to gray
and reality to hazy contours,
night hides the rain.
As if only the sound exits.
Night does this.
Night, a time for sounds,
a time for memories that have no sounds,
only pictures alive within a darkened mind.
A raindrop blurs a scene unchanged
time, a memory’s life.

January 20, 2011 at 8:03 pm Leave a comment


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