A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination.
A log of our magnificent journey.
|We thank the men and women who celebrate
the holidays so far away from home,
in spite of personal forfeiture
required to fulfill their sacred charge.
We thank them for their dedication
as they slog up mounts and ride the waves,
fly through storms to deliver goods
in order to keep our nation free.
From Normandy Beach to Desert Storm,
from Iwo Jima to Isis Caliphate,
some fought and paid a heavy price.
We thank them for their sacrifice.
12 lines of Free Verse poetry
|A gawky kid from Tupelo
walked into record studio
to start career on radio.
With guitar strapped on his back,
he demonstrated quite the knack,
and bought his mom a Cadillac.
"You ain't nothing but a hound dog,
cryin' all the time..."
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The two-faced Cajun voodoo queen
lures unsuspecting men into her lair
with angelic facade so serene,
then eats them for lunch without a care.
The taste of human flesh lingers,
but she protects her miniskirt
when blood trickles through her fingers
while she enjoys goat entrails for desert.
She gazes into the looking glass
and observes completely broken lass,
because her worst fears have come to pass.
Reflection looks back and sees despair
from one caught up in Destiny's snare
with no reason remaining to care.
She leans out of frame and looks for door,
because she cannot take any more.
They're both ready for that other Shore.
Notes on the Three Squared form of poetry ▼
|On parade field in early morning mist,
all decked out in dress uniform
and ready for graduation ceremony,
looking forward to first duty assignment.
One phase over and the next begins
without a clue about what future holds.
Preparing for the worst,
while hoping for the best.
|The harvest moon casts eerie glow
on frosty pumpkin patch below,
where Elvis croons a witchy tune,
while scarecrow frightens ghost platoon
with ghastly scene from Mister Poe.
The zombie hoedown starts to go
allemande left and do-si-do,
as vampires and werewolves commune
with harvest moon.
They're caught on YouTube video
when friends show up and spirits flow
down at the Apple Cart Saloon,
where Tinker Bell and Daniel Boone
are howling hearty "Hi-de-ho!"
at harvest moon.
|Every year on Halloween,
Romeo and Juliet rise from their graves
to resume their love affair.
She sits upon his bony lap
and brushes hair no longer there
to show how much she cares,
until the light of dawn
chases them away.
|Once I saw a little bird
dead in the road.
His spirit spoke a word
to save a poor toad.
Beneath the tire of speeding car,
that toad did meet his fate
before I could to anything,
'cause warning came too late.
Mad Hatter with feline crony
whispering in his ear
leads battalion of bats
on a mission to present
all the neighborhood children
with coronavirus treats
and leave community
burning with the fever.
Death and pestilence
are all that remain
in their wake.
11 lines of Free Verse poetry
|Descended from crispy Scottish oatcakes,
my Granny's oatmeal raisin cookies rock.
Inspired by the ones Paula Deen makes,
they are my favorite around the clock.
My Granny's oatmeal raisin cookies rock,
without a doubt, any way you spin it.
They are my favorite around the clock.
A batch will vanish in a New York minute.
Without a doubt, any way you spin it,
Fannie Farmer's cookbook was a winner.
A batch will vanish in a New York minute,
whether served at breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
Fannie Farmer's cookbook was the winner
which inspired the ones Paula Deen makes,
whether served at breakfast, lunch, or dinner,
descended from crispy Scottish oatcakes.