Poems

  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.
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  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...
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  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...
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  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.
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  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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