Posted in April 2017, NaPoWriMo 2017, Rhyme


Sorry! game

On a journey to reach Home
I Start out as number 2
But I get a second chance
That’s not good for you


Counting on the luck of the Draw
To move me forward on the Path
My colorful little Pawn
Procures the Card of wrath


It’s a frantic race to make it Home
You bump me and I bump you
But one of us will win in the end
Oh Wow! Look at the card I drew!




Posted in April 2017, NaPoWriMo 2017, Rhyme

Evolution of Writing

A human Finger writes in the sand,
Words a heart needs to say.

And a dry Bone held in a hand,
Draws word pictures in moist clay.

A Reed blowing in a Egypt’s land,
Is used to scribe events of the day.

And Romans, in their culture so grand,
Invent the Stylus, so they say.

Anglo-Saxons cleverly planned,
To write books using a Quill as a way.

Then upon the world’s Grand-Stand,
The lead Pencil’s design is put on display,

Yet, Pencil writing was undermanned,
So ink Pens were created in various array.

But, for all those invented, both great and bland,
The Finger is still used to text and sign today.




Posted in April 2017, Ghazal, NaPoWriMo 2017

At Calvary

three crosses at Calvary
Soldiers on the way to Calvary
Just another day at Calvary

Roman law is in play at Calvary
Criminals will pay at Calvary

On crosses they will lay at Calvary
Crime they will slay at Calvary

Amongst the noisey fray at Calvary
Some kneel to pray at Calvary

For One sent to stay at Calvary
Is a King they say at Calvary

Son of God on display at Calvary
Father’s will to obey at Calvary

I honor Him today at Calvary
For He lives, Yay! at Calvary

Posted in April 2017, NaPoWriMo 2017, Tanka

Uniting in Freedoms

Photo of a wall with the
Photo of a wall with the “Four Freedoms” at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, Washington DC.


Proper stressed syllables 

Join with Assonance

In Prosody to proclaim

Freedom from fear, Speech to each


Click to read more about:  “The Four Freedoms” 

Posted in April 2017, Bop, NaPoWriMo 2017


River, path, trees
Lazy day, on a river walk, slowly walking and pondering…

Why do some trees grow tall and straight,

Yet others are twisted, bent, and broken?

The soil is the same for all.

The rain shows no favorites.

The sun shines on both equally.

I ponder all this, yet the river, like time, keeps moving.

Perhaps it’s what is within,

That causes one to stand tall,

And one to bend and bow with the wind?

From where does each root seek its nourishment?

Does one go deep to find the key to growth?

While another looks upon the surface inhaling whatever passes its way?

Perhaps one works too hard and becomes old and weary,

It’s efforts leaving it empty and weak?

I ponder all this, yet, the river, like time, keeps moving.

I conclude that it’s a matter of choice.

All are given the breath of life and freedom to live.

It’s not mine to question each ones outcome,

But to ponder only on my own choices.

Yet, to offer true nourishment to those who come seeking,

And the fragrance of compassion to those in need.

I ponder all this, yet, the river, like time, keeps moving.

Bop Poem