Posted in May 2018, Prose

Poetic Ramblings

Wind, water, plants

Poetry or Prose? Only the scholar knows what label thoughts on paper take or whether lines run together or break, the rules. Do I write to please a scholar, or to empty my head of floating syllables that wake me in the night? My answer is that I must ignor the scholar’s frown as I write down those words, thoughts, feelings in my head, waiting to be said, before they fly away to the land of dread, where they are doomed to fade away beneath piles of broken dreams and things unspoken, left to lie and die in the dust of lost opportunity and missed chance. Form can be a friend, I treasure it to no end, but there are times when thoughts run free and words won’t bend to fit in a syllabic line. So, prose then, can be my friend, as I randomly write into the night, words running ahead the thoughts in my head, tempting my fingers to tap the keys and create a space for them to live on paper.


Posted in Etheree, March 2018

Poetic Paradise

Poetic Paradise, sleeping, dreaming


You ever

Wonder how

Poets find sleep?

Or what they might think

In those dark night watches?

As they contemplate slumber?

Are their mind’s in calm repose?

How do they enter into somnolence?

Poets count syllables instead of sheep!


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”