Best Get A Grip Of Poems

Inspired by Andrew Wyeth Watercolor Painting -- Wind From the Sea, 1947




Standing in the old house
A strange mixture of feelings erupt within me
My roommates Depression,...

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With all the time on my hands, I gave my hands one job.
 My Hands   -The Artist-

My hands paint everything in my life
they...

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~writer's notes~

i think out loud
from my fingers to a keyboard 
so forgive me if my speak
is somewhat long winded
if it has swirls and curls
this is...

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Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Warding off the howling sound...

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Within the frame a sepia scene
a dusty porch   a rickety chair   
the fabric of your dusky face creased
with ceaseless sunbaked woes
your...

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I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I

i think of you

I wish someone could...

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Liquid Heaven

A feast for my womanly inner beast!       
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring...

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The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
     ...

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I lift you up, delicately
like a bouquet of flames in pink patient fever,
romantically, I rove your surface with fingertips that tingle,
the texture of your treated...

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I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver...

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Parallel

Evening arrived scattering snowflakes,
I sought a solitary
Path
Through winter’s barren woods
Made magical this night
With glittering snow
Gracing every empty branch
Each twig
In the muffled silence of a downy...

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I remember clinging on to the naked branch,
which had been my home since the season of birth.
In my days of botanical glory,
flourishing and nourishing in...

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Many eons passed on Earth, who only saw your face
Untouched your virgin body, floating there in space
Waxing, waning, gibbous, crescent, quarter, full and new
Selene the...

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The cold hand of Winter swiftly approaches
Its breath etches frost on my windowpanes
Nearer my threshold, Death now encroaches  

Blood is slowly chilling inside my...

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Sonnet I

In realms of emerald hush, where sunlight strains
Through veils of green, a silent throng takes root,
A clovered congregation on the plains,
Their stoic forms a...

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