A Shel Silverstein-inspired poem about a weird creature who likes to wear crocs.
Category: Poetry
Where Did Grandpa’s Hair Go?
A short poem about a grandkid wondering why grandpa is bald.
That’s That
A short poem about superstition.
Beneath the Waves
A ship to sail
upon the sea,
with wind, be caught
and follow thee…
Dig
If idyllic plots areplots of land andhouses built onsinking sand arenot as good aswalls of stoneand timber fallsbut castles stand(except for thosewhose walls are sand)then I might sleepquite sweet tonightwhere down six feetI’ll dig my site
Wilt
Wilt, oh petal,
breathe no more
of sun and sky
and cease your chore
to branch and leaf
in cloudless sky,
to mark a stone
in black to cry.
Song of the Storm
Storm of winter
clouds of night,
break o’er the crashing
waves of fright
and bring the cleansing
rains of tide
to waken us
in sleeping, hide.
Armour
You’re my armour:
beat thine breast,
where all cold steel
at mine behest
might sing in echo,
violence swayed,
Liquid Language
Liquid language
drips from lips.
The lies we speak,
they come in sips.
Other Side
Can we find rest
for our wandering hearts,
to be satisfied
in playing our parts?