Tag Archives: blog blogging

afternoon poem, july 15, 2015

    . Our car was old, even then V-8; hydra-glide tranny Fins, sharp and high The style of its day.   We drove into the mountains On state highways Taking switchbacks and hairpins Up and down the mountainsides   … Continue reading

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Chapter One

Bereaved and alone, he pushed himself to continue doing the things he’d done before.  Cooking, cleaning, reading, writing and walking.  He walked often to the edge of the neighborhood.  To that line where development, for whatever reason, had stopped fifty … Continue reading

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Morning Post, March 20, 2015

Every morning when I rise I look out my window.  I expect to see more or less the same thing.  The houses and trees, the streets and streetlamps, maybe a car passing by.  This morning, like many mornings in this … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, March 11, 2015

I take hat and coat and gloves and scarf and boots Car keys and a pack filled with the days lunch. In my other hand, a travel mug of coffee I can barely manage to open the door Weighted as … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, March 10, 2015

The streets are slate grey after this morning’s light rainfall The fog hangs low above the buildings, below the hilltops The last remnants of winter are dirty white mounds The color of the fog, and marked with cinders Scraped into the … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, March 2, 2015

‘ THROUGH MY WINDOW   ‘ Through my window the world is silent, but moving Last summer’s leaves, still held by one side of the black oak shake and flutter against the last breath of winter People walk purposely along, … Continue reading

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Morning Poem #2, February 26, 2015

  , Starting at midnight we drove into the mountians through the constant rain. By dawn we were an hour from the shore and the road through the pines was flat and straight like some giant hallway. I remember the … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, February 26, 2015

The snow now days old Is dirty and crusted. The streets are black and wet. The leaves on the oak are brown, as if rusted And there is no sign of spring yet.   copyright 2015

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Good Night

The lamp by the walkway shines in the glossy night Making tiny diamonds on the wet leaves of the holly and the boxwood I hear raindrops fall like whispers onto the leaves and grass I shiver in the chill and … Continue reading

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Here’s What I’m Thinking

It’s been great fun putting up poems  and prose paragraphs day after day.  It’s a lot more fun when I get good feedback – “likes” and comments.  I guess this whole blogging game is a bit too random to expect … Continue reading

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