Best Crisscrossing Poems

I was a planetary climatologist, who studied climate variability and change,
Like sweet variability of stunning, green tulips, in lavish garden rearranged.

Studying the said effects on...

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And so it begins
The game of life
The dominos of love
Falling where they may
The timer activated
Fresh out of a box
Learning the rules 
As we go along
No...

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Orchard’s earthy mossy trails
Gray-brown bark like dragon scales
Crooked branches stretch to hold
Tender almonds encased in fuzzy fold

Leafy clusters filter sun
And dapple grasses newly spun
Bathed in...

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Traversing Iceland's National Park, a timeless place, where daylight fills each passing hour
    and twilights ever brief. While volcanoes stand by sentinel,...

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Everybody needed something,
and there was always something in the world that needed somebody,
debt is all about connections to affections,
sustenence to stimulus is only half of...

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Sailing oceans on my clipper 
She was named the Song of the Sea
I'm her only female skipper
My name it is Rosie Marie

I love to hear...

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I could never explain how I feel
On air, waves of sounds escaping what I could no longer hear
Aggravation lingers on the tongue
How it burns, perpetually,...

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Life, in layman’s terms is merely that…life
It is a means to an end, a diversion of daily consequence 
A planned out, researched, blueprinted and stamped
happening...

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Exploring the suburbs at Melbourne
Glad are the late nights’ burnt

Bustling Bourke Street Mall
Epitome of a retail therapy’s call

The archaic Flinder’s Station
Scheduling warrants attention

Cho-chooing to Sydney
Never...

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Beating the midday forlorn sun
By foot they begun the journey leaving the pun
Beware of the dangers and tactics to shun  
Between that time and...

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White picket fence in the rear view
Coordinates in the GPS
He honks as he leaves the driveway
For a three day trip to the west

They call it...

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Harsh sunlight beats upon the thirsty land
And glares upon the limestone cliffs and sand,
   While waves of heat rise shimmering, above
The parched loam...

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I've got a sitter called Mub,

a boring hitter in a bum-

the crisscrossing of falling things evaporate with me,

as I'm seeing,

savoring moments of feelings becoming beamed,

but...

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Death by firing squad is the old way
Using gas chambers, that area’s grey
Dropping big bombs, now that’s child’s play
Compared to the methods they use today

They’re...

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when he was six,
    he cringed in fear
       recalling nightmares
      ...

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