I thought
about
writing
a cinquain
Of a half-dozen couplets
In iambic pentameter
But
the hour
passed
eleven.
I took 1 milligram of melatonin
With eight ounces of water,
And my mind now works in
mo・no・syl・lab・ic
thoughts.
Good
night.
I thought
about
writing
a cinquain
Of a half-dozen couplets
In iambic pentameter
But
the hour
passed
eleven.
I took 1 milligram of melatonin
With eight ounces of water,
And my mind now works in
mo・no・syl・lab・ic
thoughts.
Good
night.
You rest in a small pine box In the back of your garageFrayed fingertipsSoiled grassy greenAnd earth-stained brownDuring spring renewal Remnants of your workContinue to thriveIn your small patch of earthYour living legacy You served us wellMay you dig your slumber Check out this other poem about my parents.
Each hour hums hidden, harmonious parts.Dawn’s golden glow sets the tone.Mid-morning’s melody swells as chords connect.Noon’s refrain rests then repeats strong.Afterwork’s cadence slows, scales unwind.Golden notes sink, dusk softly fades.
A local indyjazz band,The Monsters,has openeda nightclubin my basement. Patronsgrooveto their coolrhythmsand riffsuntil weeearly-morninghours despitemy tirelesspleasto taketheir tunesto moreneighborlyvenues.
Today, as we honor the fallen, let us remember the flag, the pledge, the anthem are symbols for the people. All people. One nation.
Beneath barely bright bulbs, a ballet of shadows begins,Tragic comedy of chores, quietly questioning my care.Plants, parched and pleading, paint pictures of neglect,Demanding delicate drops of dedication from my distracted days. Clutter, cunningly creeping into corners and crevices,Tells tales of time’s tight grip and tasks untamed.The shower, stained with splatters and spots, silently screamsFor the…
Partial truth hides, denies full truth told.Full truth holds weight of what’s left unsaid. Silent weight shapes what’s shown, controlled—Mind only sees shadows of what it’s fed. Seeing shadows of what the mind is fed,Twists facts, reframes the story it knows. Twisting facts reshapes words already bent,Words half-bent deceive hearts that try to grow. Hearts…