Tracing our Foot-path

I am your ease. I am your strain.

I am your joy. I am your pain.

I am your meadow, in yellow.

I am your emerald, in spring.

I am your poet, your poetess.

Fluid word’s expressed

with finesse.

I am your seize-less

moments

replayed in poetic form.

Spring’s Inviting Warmth

In March, the warmth of spring arrives.
The sun no longer cool thru slate skies.
The dusky pinnacle of winter dwindles.

The cheer of sunbeams streams down.
Forms a windowsill of warmth for pet’s.
A stimulative blanket to warm our legs.

Come, oh, spring add your cheeriness.
The buds to bloom on vine, on branch.
The flora to show a display attentively.

Peace – Peace

 

Don’t babble on about stuffy ado.
Extend a rope collective and true.
Akin to the poetry relating to you.

Should the threads similar fracas?
Why do you have to color in blue?
Should the aging inspire a ruckus?

A Poet’s Heart

 

The heart of a poet displays love.
A phrase, a vein, strong heartbeat.
The heart of a poet honors trust.

Mid-January Morn

 

Morning abase – gritty yellow trident.
Piercing – penetrating to lift thick gray.
Glazed dome ever more lights the sky.
The sphere renews winter white drear.

Poetic Life Spring

To lea to lay to lye with thee.
Mother earth is what I enjoy.

The Poet – Poetess

Poetry –
The art of communicating
love, hope and brotherly peace.

Poetry –
The words defined in colors one finds.

Poetry –
A tender flora to capsule for tomorrow.
Bookmarked in place.

The Year 2015…!!

From wince the end starts the beginning.
A fresh – blanketed in new found white.
Winter still lays captive those of the night.
Battered than whetted by new outpouring.
Dry earth drenching in any regained hope.

Sledding in Winter

A country road is all a-glow.
Snow piles on parallel rows.
Is highest along main posts.
Barbed fence our entrance.
A tall hill just a-fore forestry.

Royal Princess Di

Britain bleeds tears – love on recall.
A precious dove – shameful death.
Our hearts to melt in grievous loss.

Merry Christmas Poets…!!

It’s getting to be that time.

When the frozen bird is thawed and

Diner called Padaek’

 

Syllables 5-7-5 for each haiku.

(price competition: submission)

 

Fasten my apron.

Delightful Padaek’ kitchen.

Stir- up some fixing’s.

World Concern – children

 

It came upon a midnight clear.
Children fear cops far n near.
No shoes cover his small feet.
A meal’s not ready, prepared,
by mom or dad to eat. Left
in the gutter – trenches is he.
Just a tiny Lit tot. Facing
Christmas all alone. A flat
box, soaked by snow, his only
covering. He’s, just, gland the
cops ne’er found him t-day.
Now he can live a-other day.

Death has Risen

Green grass at December’s end…?
Blackened earth declines soft white.
Sunset rebuffs in colors iridescent.

Life with Teens

 

I’m suffering from a teen-aged hangover.

And it’s not because I’ve had a few.

(ne’er drank ever)

It’s because I have a few.

(who were up past three)

Hello fog-laden day.