BIG News and Possible Christmas Presents?!

Hot off the presses! A great gift for the poetry lover. Some excellent poets are represented, many you probably know from their blogs. There might even be a couple in there from me.

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Waiting By The Window

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He watched from his chair
as she rode away.

She promised to return,
he believed her every word.

He waited by the window
while the world fell away.

He was found in his chair
by the window

with her picture in his lap.

Morning

I come awake in the still
of the morning — the time
when sight is teased by
by dawn’s promise —
as her hair falls around me
and her scent fills my world.
Even in the dim light I can find
the fleck of gold in her green
eyes, my next breath held when
her fingers skim my skin.
The load of worry and the burdens
present the night before
no longer hold sway in this room.
Fear and uncertainty join
the heap of clothes
at the end of the bed,
issues for another time.

Bedroom Window Sunrise (Photo credit: ex_magician)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the Sunday Whirl

In Memorial Hall at the United States Naval Academy

The names of the fallen
are engraved on a glass-
encased plaque.
When the afternoon sun
streams in and washes
the floor with its glow,
their ghosts fade
into shadowed corners,
listen to visitor’s footsteps
echo through the hall,
and question whether
they come for the architecture,
or the memories
of the fallen engraved upon
a plaque.

Without Her Coat

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sea blows in through
the door she left open
while running out
to embrace the shore spray
and the winter rain.

She will return after dusk,
wet and cold and wild
with excitement for life.

.

For The Mag

Revolution Cycles

The authors of revolt record their
thoughts with obscure inscriptions
on clay tablets.

Their inspiration drawn from eighty
books condemning the habits
of the elite, lighting fire
to the tissue of lies and fiction,
provoking the masses
into doubting the revered.

Stoic leaders meet the threat,
clear headed in the midst of
conflict, intent to preserve
order, equanimity over chaos.

When the usurpers prevail
the cycle turns, and the words
of the next revolt are penned.

{revolution} (Photo credit: stargardener)

At A Red Light

She is really giving him hell —
second car back, on the right —
a barrage of hand gestures
and verbal attacks.
I wonder what caused
the injury that led to the big
cast on her right hand.
Maybe she hit him, or a wall.
She appears to have a temper.
His lips move on occasion;
briefly, without much energy.
Mostly, he faces away from her,
staring out the window.
I open the sunroof as the light
changes, traffic moves
and I turn left, a different
route than the fighting couple.
It is a beautiful day.