Poetry

Old Buford I came upon old Buford, and he grinned a toothless grin. I shook his scarred and wrinkled hand,…

Les Miserables: They hide their eyes from the morning, in hopes the light goes away. They turn their face…

Ribbons, Bows and Pink Lace I am six, no ribbons, bows or pink lace, only long curly locks around my freckled…

My heart has made a garden, where the thorn falls away from the rose. Where every flower has your face. The…

Sweet primrose pressed between the pages. A book of verse from bygone ages. A token kept and treasured

Caravaggio, Caravaggio, not your name but the town you were born. Michelangelo Merisi

I've got me the pinkeye. My sciatica hurts. I've got some sort of rash, and a touch of the squirts.

I'm stuck here in the garden, I watch the flowers come and go. I wish they'd turn me just a bit, so I could see…

Madame B  Gustave's creation you are fine and fair and foolish beyond measure. You remind me of me. Wanting…

I have no more time, to stumble or bumble, fumble, fidget or fall.I will go over, around, through or under, every…

Everyone got up in unison, I mean everyone at exactly the same instant, all 22 of 'em, like they were one mind like…

The tree that blooms unnoticed, bears sweet blossom still. And has its time of beauty, even on a silent hill

I walk on given precious gems far better than a crown of gold two stands with jointed wiggling stems to bring me…

I'm hungry for some oysters. I shall brook with no delay. I told the oysters that I'm hungry, and they must…

I wandered around in the Windiwiddle, with a duck and a mouse and a moose with a fiddle. We paused a while to…