I’m the one who steals your socks
and messes up your bed.
When you wash your white laundry
I add in something red!
I like to throw around ki
Category: Poetry
Brushstrokes
Grab a brush,
let’s paint the sky.
We’ll start with stars
and things that fly!
Then we’ll make
the brightest sun,
we’ll use all shades
’til
Don’t Call Me, Please
Please don’t call
or I may just cry.
I will not answer
but may certainly die.
Gnome in a Jar
I once met a gnome
who lived in a jar
and he told me a tale
of his travels “afar”.
The Spider’s Plea
“Oh my!” Proclaimed I
as I spotted my foe:
a big hairy spider
with at least fifty toes.
Today, I might die
Everything I know
and everyone I know
will eventually die.
Why Does The Sun Make Me Sneeze (and Other Terrible Things)
Why does the sun make me sneeze?
Why does spring air suffocate me?
Why do mosquitoes make me itchy?
Gilded Frames
A poem about how we frame our lives and our stories for the benefit of others.
All the World’s a Grave
Sinew and bone to rough-hewn stone. A wooden cross or corpse still lost. In fields of gold and rivers, red, the sparkling water of forgotten dead. This is how the world has been, this is how the world will be. Born and die and born anon some with stories, but most just gone. #poem #poetry #grave #life #death #circleoflife #legacy
8
Sky of gulls
and whispered wind
and murmured soft
the crowded din