The Music Maker

  “The Music Maker” He played her like an old, worn tambourine; a frightful, dull man’s musicale. The thunder from her drum a shallow scene; a misty, seismic moment from his gal. The music not enhanced by their dog, Sal who also entered her embittered howl. The house reverberates; the neighbors pale as door and…

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The Messenger

I doubt not God’s my messenger and oft I see him in the whirling colors there. His message is a gentle love, aloft and all his voice remembered everywhere. He is the author of the spider’s way whose mystic journey often spins astray unless that force and guide is heard. He is our stamen stretching…

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“Sarcasm”

Proud, strutting peacock, bilious scream.  Your noisy scene affronts my ears; then my brain. If chatter your device for breaking ice,  then your attempt for cool now goes astray.  Sarcastic jester, fool upon your stage. As partner in your play,  I’ve  disengaged. Photo Credit: Made Hery Santosa

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“The Hoarders”

  We’re tripping at the thrift store before lunch. Compulsion is a noisy swarm of geese. We wear the surgeon’s mask to stop the dust. We’re rescue angels wearing pale, pink gloves. A Louis Vuitton leather purse; a gown for fifty cents.  An old Mark Twain is found. A ghostly pall hangs over all debris;…

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“The Greeting”

Wordle #193 (sign,arrival, scar, stray, ingest, alone, silent, holy, plain, pale, laughing, chime) “The Greeting” Another HOLY day he sits ALONE As SIGN of God’s ARRIVAL CHIMES the door. His SCARRED, STRAY heart LAUGHING at the love he will INGEST: a pat upon his PLAIN and simple head. He waits, PALE and SILENT… tail wagging.

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“The Game”

 “The Game” Faint amber glow remains to haunt their fiery past. Her slumber stirs.  His candle cast and with its burn, her snuffer there again to taunt but not to trim his light. His wick still wild with passion’s flight. dreams emboldened; reckless delight. Painting by Henry Fuseli (1741-1825)

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“Sahara”

Photo: National Geographic “Sahara” The setting sun now breaks my drifting dream and threads that needle to my passion’s flight resplendent in its dignity, our scene compels imagination with delight. The fading sun now cools my sun dune air and calm, our camels rock the dusty swells. A steamy haze along horizons flare where desert’s…

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“Growing Old”

<img src=”http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/moonshine.png”&gt; “Growing Old” I drive Carol to work this am. She surprises me with: “If I have a ride home tonight with Ron, you will not hear from me. If I need a ride , I will call you. Ya got that, Mom?” No, I don’t “get it” but say nothing. When will I…

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