Category: Poetry
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A dangerous endeavor, spilling ink across the page. Who knows what hornet’s nest or horror may emerge at provocation. Will spring forth a muse or a monster? Who can say? The spark blazes to life. It goes where it will. Who can check its course? It bleeds past the edge of the page and burns,…
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It hears all manner of things with resolve, Pressing down the taste of fear with purpose to answer the call. Blind to what comforts may be found by retreat into the shadows. Girded with grit that knows what treasure is worth the cost.
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Anything written, humor and wit, things I’ve read and things I’ve thought You don’t know the half of it, neither do I, that’s our lot In life we see but dimly, through the looking glass of time Past and present both reflect a glimpse of the sublime Gleaning scraps of truth from all the thinkers…
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Down by the creek, down by the creek Where the grass is high and the water is sweet Ripple, babble, babble, bubble, down by the creek With a stick and a rock and a skip and a walk Scramble down the bank, kick off your shoes and socks Straight from the spring, water cold and…
Writ & Whimsy 