Best Dabbing Poems

Often I harken back
to a very wise poet,
how “life is but a stage”

of tender moments
splashed and splattered
by fierce jabs of passionate 
heated rage 

such opera...

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You wonder why, my love
These memories flitter in the hallways of my mind
Knocking on the door
of every room
Where I’ve hung
Do not Disturb Signs
For I don’t...

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IT TAKES TIME TO SEE THE LIGHT

Death is best taught in the dark
Fetching sticks, setting sparks
Its bag of tricks: sickness and hope
A black curtain vanishes
The...

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When brainwaves strive against my need for sleep,
I exercise to help my mind calm down.
When pressures get so bad I want to weep,
I do yard...

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BEQUEATHED BONNIE SQUARE
                      ...

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My little Eden -- 
before the fall

a screened porch
in the shade of
an ancient
overarching
fig tree

small wonder
Adam and Eve
needed only one each
to hide their new
nakedness -- 

chicks...

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City streets spew fire on sunburnt July day.
Dabbing sweat from brow, I meld into paved sea. 
Mick cries out "Angie" from quaint corner café;
slowing steps,...

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Whose face stares back at me
from this strangely shaped mirror?
Where could I be? I do not have a mirror
that looks like this. Am I that...

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Today is a dank day
that hosts a sullen sun,
cloudy and overcast
shadows start shaking as
breezes blow hard and fast.

Today is a dank day,
yet dribbling drops of...

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In London, away in a terrace
Half-hidden with elm trees and grime,
Lived young Violet, in her parents' house,
Left alone for near all of the time,

As her...

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First Christmas without you, my dearest, my love
Cruelly taken too soon on the wings of a dove

How can I rejoice when my heart broke in...

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I'm here rapping. 
All my fans their clapping. 
All the haters laughing. 
I don't listen to haters. 
Even if their bunch of dictators. 
People don't...

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Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling 
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole, 
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm....

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Am I the Assassin 
        or the Undertaker

          ...

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Spring transforms snowdrifts into art
as frigid days begin to warm.
And water and ice meld, sculpting
Queen Anne's lace in crystalline form.

Clinging to snowy roofs and eaves,
icicles...

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