This is intended as a further collection, in no particular order, of the short poems that I have liked. Their truth is in their beauty, if not always in their sense or sentiment. For those who dip into it, I am hoping with this personal anthology to convey something of the pleasure poetry has for so long given me. Lik...
This is a follow on collection from Windswept. In this collection I will examine the concept of love from a more ethereal perspective.
In-between black and white. A style of painting, drawing, etc. using only light and shade to achieve the effect of a third dimension.
* There is an alphabetical index at the end (including authors). This is intended as an extending collection, in no particular order*, of the many short poems that I have liked. Their truth is in their beauty, if not always in their sense or sentiment. For those who dip into it, I am hoping with this personal antholog...
Highest rank #12 in Poetry Second Wind is an eclectic collection of mostly light hearted poems but often has a serious message and takes the occasional side swipe at politicians and those in power.
A collection of poems about love and hate and reading and complaining.
A Collection of My Haiku and Senryu. Seasonal information used with permission.
Romeo's sweetheart takes full advantage of his unusual enthusiasm for chores.
I am attempting to branch out and free myself from the constraints imposed by the label 'war poet'. I once wrote a poem (sadly lost) which voiced my frustration at my apparent inability to write about anything other than combat and its aftermath. Now I am retired from the military, it's time to move on. So here goes...
I used to write poetry a long time ago. Poems from the Tower is compendium of dreams of love, sorrow and despair. Fantasy and reality converge in these verses to create this collection of poetry, in my attempt to purge away some feelings.
This is based on MRI reading that show the brain forms the our words six to seven seconds before we actually say them, meaning the subconsciousness is aware of what we are going to say before it happens. This poem takes that fact and questions what brain is real living in the now, and which is reacting to the stimulu...
In a dark time, the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; I hear my echo in the echoing wood-- A lord of nature weeping to a tree, I live between the heron and the wren, Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den. From--"In a Dark Time" by Theodore Roethke
