Nightmare Times

Shadow Creation,
misting down
attic stairs.
Cold “haint” fills my nightmare times,
takes leave with my soul.

Be gone, you!
“Undigested beef!
More of gravy than the grave…!”
I refuse your haunt!

Late night sweats.
Down dark alleyways
being chased.
“Have mercy
upon my tortured spirit!”
I cry in the night.


Posted to dVerse Poets Pub for Meeting the Bar.






You asked me last night how I deal
with the pressure, where I go to vent,
all the political baggage I take
in throughout the week.

My answer tonight was that if I stay
in poetry, imbibe
literature, all the diatribe just becomes
gas, a methane flame off the landfill
of my brain.

I’m reminded of the news — released
by the previous regime — that cow’s flatulence,
the methane emitted by incontinent bovines
is one of our greatest sources of greenhouse gasses.

A perfect metaphor, I think,
for all political rhetoric lately —
bovine gas on both sides of the aisle.

Limerick: Hot-Crossed

Let me tell you about a woman named Belinda
Who sat herself down on a fiery cinda
The neighbor’s dogs heard her howl
And they set up a raucous yowl
Poor Belinda’s rump roast was baked but quite tinda

Thus poor Belinda’s tail ends


Posted at dVerse Poets Pub for Quadrille night.



Something from my first day blogging.

Life in Portofino

Dallas-thunderhead-cloud_231234 from


When clouds roll in
and obscure our light
there is nothing I know to do
but bend backwards
as far as my backbone allows
and hold my breath.


Dissatisfaction and annoyance
has the ability to break bones
and leave a body dry,
bleached, brittle in the rain.


Smile on me, sunshine.
For I am weak without you.
Shine on me.
For I lose direction without
your light to give me guiding shadows.

— 4-27-2016

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Cut and Clarity


Fifty pulses per minute, at rest.

Burning sapphire, my heartbeats
trace a syncopated arrhythmia
on the chart.

Lively, my love keeps it molten.

Hot, flowing gemstone that singes
all but the girl who’s my setting.

Light flares within.

How did I live before this?


Posted to dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille night.  The magic word is “burn.”


Starred Man


Life on Mars.  I found
this cut on a long-ago
album.  The innocent
idea of leave your troubles
and woes, light the fuse
and away it goes.

Red roadster, red roadster,
let Starman take over.

Off of cruise control –

ground control –

cruising the Solar.

What a system!


An oddity.  An odyssey.



My Heart Never Skipped a Beat



I hit play on R.E.M.’s first
studio album, sip
this soft-spoken red
consider my life’s turns.

Had it been,
if I’d had… an aortic,
an Austin Flint, a diastolic,
or an ejection – never learned
what – I might have pursued

But never murmur.


Posted on dVerse Poets Pub.  Written for the quadrille night… the magic word is, “murmur.”


Haiku – Crow Clan

Crow Moon


Crow wings cross blue moon –
singing crow song by the lake
welcoming kindred.


Posted to Frank J. Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge 18.


Bonnie Jean’s Retort

In response to A Red, Red Rose, by Robert Burns.


O my God, to bed with thee, ye sot!
What’s gotten into you?
O a rose is it that I am?
More likely said in brew.

Which lass court you in whiskey cups
That call ye rose as such?
Ah, weel, Bill plied thee with drink
Till a’ your brains slosh much.

Till a’ your brains slosh much, old fool
And your clothes reek wi’ the smoke!
I cart off ye here, old fool
With the stench o’ pub and bloke.

And you sleep while I’m off to pub
Before the closing bell!
May be I’ll home again ‘fore dawn
Or off with some gentle swell!


Posted to dVerse Poetry Pub, Meeting the Bar.  The prompt is “Response Poetry.”  Write a response to a well-known poem, “I have recently been rereading How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch.  In the first chapter Hirsch talks about the relationship between the poet (writer) and the reader.  He refers to it as being a form of communication between two strangers, often across time, space and cultures.  This triggered for me that moment in a literature class when I first read Christopher Marlowe’s famous The Passionate Shepherd to His Love and the response, A Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd, written by Sir Walter Ralegh a few years later. These two poems take the communication between writer and reader a step further because Ralegh’s poem is in direct reply to Marlowe’s poem.

“Both poems are from Poetry Foundation

“The challenge is to write a poem that is a direct reply to another poem.  While Ralegh kept Marlowe’s form and meter, it would certainly not be necessary to do that.  I encourage you, however, to test your poetic limits by mirroring the form of the original poem.  You may also choose to take the challenge to another level by writing two poems in which you respond to an original poem of your own.  You may go humorous or serious, ironic or sardonic, but whatever direction you choose, have fun with it and raise your personal writing bar to new heights!

“As always, take care to credit the original poem that you are responding to with a source or link that we may continue to protect the work and rights of all artists.

“Is there a poem that you have always wanted to respond or reply to?  Now is your chance!”


Also posted to imaginary garden with real toads.



Tigger-Like, I Spring

wolf pounce



I bounce

because there ain’t much meat to the ounce.

I sniff ‘em out and pounce.

Not much fight

in them mousies.

“Love to eat them mousies…!”

I bounce

because it’s mousies I have to trounce.

Till it’s Caribou time.

That’s when I flounce.


Posted at dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille night.  The magic word for the night is “bounce.”

kliban cup

Art by B. Kliban