When I was young,
late-night adventures
of dancing,
of dining,
of playing cards
with friends
was my declaration
of independence
over sleep.
But now
the most thrilling
Friday night
means falling asleep
in recliner
while semi-riveted
in a streaming documentary
about the history of cheese.
We need a spoonful of candor…
Peacocks: although pretty, they’re pretty loud. Porcupines: their spines make painful quills. Skunks: I’ll be blunt. They stink.Snakes: I really don’t like snakes. Elephants: nobody has that much space. Hippopotamuses: the worst Christmas present ever. Structure shapes how a poem is read and felt. In Six Squared Poems—six lines with six words each—the constraint creates rhythm…
Today, again, children are caught in the crosshairs–innocent victims of political rage.
Dive into ‘Under Metal Wings,’ a reflective journey from dawn’s embrace to twilight’s whisper. This poem and its inspiring image capture the silent hopes and whispered dreams of travelers, poised on the brink of discovery. Join them as they ascend into the yawning sky, seeking harmony within and adventures in distant lands.
Like thosewhenJesus wept—not weak felt,but love kept. Tears shedfor landsshattered,for heartsoverburdened,for handsoverworked. Tears fallwhen justicefails,when truthstrays,when kindnesswithersaway. Tears streamto nourishour scorched earth,with hope—that shemay once againflourish,bringing forththe fruitsof the spirit. I amunashamedfor sheddingliberaltears.
So
I awake
defeated
unrested.