walking on shadows
cast by trees
coins of sunlight
walking on shadows
cast by trees
coins of sunlight
bathing outside
shakes tail feathers
at the window of cats
a rusty hinge
creaking–
night’s first cricket
the bald eagle
spiraling spiraling
right wing broken
produceΒ aisles glossy
peaches, pears, mangoes
awash in sweet color
“I have joined the political arena so that the powerful can no longer beat up on people who cannot defend themselves.
“Nobody knows the system better than me.
“Which is whyΒ I alone can fix it.”
-excerpt from Mr. Trump’s acceptance speech
“His primary rules … never allow the public to cool off; never admit a fault or wrong; never concede that there may be some good in your enemy; never leave room for alternatives; never accept blame; concentrate on one enemy at a time and blame him for everything that goes wrong; people will believe a big lie sooner than a little one; and if you repeat it frequently enough people will sooner or later believe it.”
I won’t say who this was written about. The personality-type is more important than the person discussed.
It’s a wonder
the candidate’s trousers
didn’t ignite
buskers in bushes
fiddle and watch
owls on patrol
snapping in the breeze
who we were, who we are
who we become
crickets crickets
crickets all around
surround sound
burning our flag
vandalizes my heart
no words worth it
kids chase and shout
in the cooling dusk
scaring summer away
smoke and mirrors
unveil the candidate–
a whiff of brimstone
15 cats curled
on a white rug
islands of a zen garden
that candidate’s record–
my scarecrow’s done
more public good
cold air comes out
the open PO Box– her letter
flutters dovelike
sermon’s on unity
I leave early
cats miss me
long line of ragged
skidmarked underpants
clothespins chagrined
smoky plumes
all along piney ridges
gray becomes morning
Enjoying Life In New Ways
Poetry, Photography, haiku,
the literary asylum
Wherever I lay my pen, that's my home
my humanity in written form
Guitarist / Songwriter
Poetry, Fiction & Photography
New content every Sunday.
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
a collection of words about my average, bog-standard life accompanied by some sub-par illustrations that depict selected moments in said life
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
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to be worth sharing
Domenic Garisto / LIFE IS NOT A REHERSAL,SO LIVE IT..if you can't be the poet, be the poem..havau22.com
One Poet's Writing Practice
My thousand lines..
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