1. The Siege

    This is a poem I entered quite some time ago, and then lost track of. It's a double tetractys, and I used the descending count (10 4 3 2 1) followed by the ascending one (1 2 3 4 10) to suggest the ebb between two wave surges. The Siege The surf explodes upon black rugged rocks a roaring beast dashed against fortress crag. Pause. Hissing, foam retreats back to the sea, marshalling rage to launch the next assault.
  2. Interviewing Jim Morrison

    This is something I wrote for a poetry contest on the site nearly a year ago. I hope you enjoy it. I sat myself down with the leather-clad poet My mission: to capture his essence in ink. The sleepy eyed singer of Doors fame waited as my head filled with nothing; I forgot how to think. The Lizard King put up his feet on the table and hummed a few notes as I stood on the brink of finding the ultimate question for him He pulled out a whiskey – we both took a drink. The questions...
  3. Night Song

    This was my entry in the first Writing Trinity poetry competition on the site, for which the challenge was to weave the words mahogany, dreaming, and afterthought into a poem. Although I did not win, I anm happy with the way the poem turned out. The warmth of your body melts into me musk and patchouli, your fragrance divine a cinnamon afterthought wafts from your lips I lie wrapped around you, at consummate peace jealous moon watches from October skies as the world of my thoughts is...
  4. Haiku

    I will post Haiku poems (plural Haiku) in this blog entry. The first one I posted here, however, I refined, and then added three more, to form a four-haiku cycle, one for each season. I submitted it to the Soft Whispers Seventeen Syllables anthology, and it was accepted an 10 April, 2010. I probably won't title any of the haiku I write. It seems counter to the spirit of the art form to add a title to a poem of 17 or fewer syllables.
  5. Morning on the Lake

    A thousand ghostly serpents stretch pale heads above the lake, warning the rising white wavering Sun. Fearless a grey shell among them slips. Shadowed pilot lets oars drift launches a silent line; a soft plop; the figure waits in vain. A starling squawks, the only sound to pierce the peaceful air. The figure lifts his arm once more another plop, and rippling rings expand. Then a splash, the rod bends down the snake heads veer away as water churns and figure turns a...
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