Best Glean Poems

A sword of the heavens did glean

From railings and arbors 
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain

Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
 left...

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Achilles, The Journey To Troy, 
(Part Two) of (Part One-titled, Achilles, His Heart and Soul Were Mortal)

Achilles, The Journey To Troy

Woe! wretched horrors Olympic gods...

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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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The poems I never wrote are small fish -
sardines that roam the ocean of my mind.
Swift thoughts are they, and like a fleeting wish,
each flits...

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The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a...

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No litter, no rules, no society scent,
just peninsula pure soul content, ideally lent.
Awed and wowed with arms stretched wide,
I stand on Key’s narrow road, on...

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Oh lovely lady of the poetic stream
Such beautiful verses we have seen
Your flowers more vibrant than heavens tone
Your mountains more majestic than ever known 

Your...

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The seasons vary as they come and go,
and each, a lovely lady, loves to dance.
Fair Winter glistens in a gown of snow
she wears whenever she...

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Beneath the mantel's alabaster gleam
Where verdigris flames pirouette, in cerulean ballet's beam...
We gather close—a familial love—
In hallowed halls where chimes of crystal laughter, stream.
Amid the...

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POW confined in a cage
Through Viet Cong jungles bullets raged

No sweat from his pores in unrelenting sun
Dehydration, famine, yet his needs were none

A tepid river...

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Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back...

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The Warp and The Weft

The warp and the weft are different but both thread
Choose any colour you like, through the blues to the red
The warp...

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How different was the world of long ago
when writing was a special skill to hone,
and masters of this art were so well known
with names like...

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My wild Irish heart - what could it do
that March when into my sweet girlhood blew
euphoria to make my heart careen?
Oh, heart as fresh as...

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Sometimes, I cannot help but sigh
and wonder--
wonder deep inside of me 
whether I could ever be like you.

I riffle through the pages of my soul
and...

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