Best Braver Poems

Why A Poem Is More Than Ink On A Page

Why a poem is more than ink on a page
its heart, soul and sweet treasure at...

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While we walked home from the movies, one moonlit starry night,
My friends and I talked and laughed, enjoying summer's delights.

The streets were quite silent, as...

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That place you go between dusk and dawn,,
hiding the child within. 
Let it run free only when the door goes closed, 
and no one else...

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Sitting on the beach in the dark of night
anticipation counts every heartbeat.
And when waves wash ashore in the moonlight,
I laugh as the tide tickles my...

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Carrying with me a
halfhearted smile for the
braver men than I.
The men holding tightly
to past perceptions,
live or die.
Suppose I whispered to 'em
what I've heard through
the metaphorical...

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The last Night of October

It's that time, again, the last night of October, 
the last glow of twilight nearly gone.
Children race out and about,
winding through...

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“Chameleons”

Chameleons
many shades 
of blue 

pretty beautiful
things given time
change their colours

not so 
delphinium
belladonna blue

Blue sky 
hypnotises
blooms 

face to the sun 
smiling to
wave Apollo in 

subtle fragrance...

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I did not know how brave 
she was, ninety-two, 
and I, seventy less...
so young that old age 
was textbook stuff: 
a fact of life, but...

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Oh the woe, for woe is me,
I said, "I do" to a teacher-to-be!
I tried to marry my best friend,
Now strapped to him, I stand condemned.

I...

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We
Didn't hear God's whispers

We
Chose to ignore God's cries

We
Even disregarded God's roar of
His wrath
For all wrongs we were doing:
To nature  
To life  
To each-other.

Then
Silence...

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Twelve little girls and eight little boys
Each one the source of their parent’s joys,
Innocent children following rules,
Paper and pencils their magical tools.

Holidays coming, rehearsal of...

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David, you mean the very world to me and more
Can you forgive me?
You brighten my days when I am low and dead
And you listen—you always...

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It will be the anniversary of my sisters death,
in a few days and I will turn back the pages of time.
The mirage comes back to...

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A drummer a soldiers son 
Resplendent as he beat that drum
Leading men to war one  by one
His fear he must overcome

 Resplendent as he...

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Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same Dirt,
(Tribute to  Philip Freneau and his poem,
The Dying Indian)


Are We Not Brothers, Made From The Same...

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