Last call

Today’s  sky is blue

The last of Autumn’s portraits

Are back on display..

 

Game over

Winter snuck in

And took all the fun

Out of thanksgiving dinner.

When everyone at the table

Makes  a one dollar bet

On the date of the first

major snow fall..

And the one closest to

The date gets the cash

On Christmas day..

Now we can’t play

That game.

 

Blank pages

The new journal seemed

To taunt me

Making  me reach for it

Over and over.

I find myself searching

For it often.

Keeping it close at hand.

Just in case you know?

Who knows when words

Will spill from a thought

And jump into poems.

So white and pure

The pages wait

For ink.

The journal doesn’t care

What ink puts on it’s pages

All it cares about

Is the ink

Filling the journal

The journal wants to be full.

Blank pages need fed.

Ink is the blood of poetry

Born on blank pages..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Erraced

Sun clawed his way out

Turned the sky from grey to blue

And snow back to rain..

Autumn

Picture ohio

Tis the season

That comes in on winds

Of leftover summer.

When leaves drain their veins

Of all life support.

So beautiful

the landscape is

Repainted.

As leaves end

the cycle

Of time spent

With  the trees..

View original post

Rules

The picture painted

A thousand words but the rule

Is five seven five

Ides of November

The ides of November
Are upon this day
Of winters arrival
Nature seems anxious
To take down Autumn leaves
And paint winter portraits
Its her hobby you know,
Painting pictures.
Fall’s been on display
Since the ides of september
Arriving on hurricane winds..
And late summer sun.
Now Autumn is falling
And Nature is changing
The pictures she paints.
Her scarlet and golds
Shine in morning frost
Beneath naked trees.