Best Interspersed Poems

I shore up my doubt, behind a loosely bound hope 
Which in turn is propped up without foundation
Cynical of a life, at the mercy of luck
Collateral damage feeds my reservation 

I shore my up tomorrow with what I see today 
Without conspiracy or investigation 
I...

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Certain weeks I’m busy
And I run around a lot
So I’m either in a tizzy
Or I’m wondering why not.

For when plans are sometimes lacking
You might think I’d just relax
But I sent those calm genes packing
And I’m antsy to the max.

Though, with age in the equation,
Staying home...

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Letting Go

Letting go...sometimes it happens twice,
Eventually, as life does cast its dice. 
The little ones we raised flew from the nest,
Though for sure, the time we shared was blessed.
Into our lives there came the second chance;
New little ones to share our lives, enhance
Grandparent's joy to...

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Elevated railroad tracks
Abandoned long ago
Have been transformed into a place
Where grass and flowers grow.

With benches made of wood or stone
And artwork interspersed,
The desolation and despair
Have all but been reversed.

If visiting the city
Is a plan that you have made
Then walk upon the High Line
And behold what’s...

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Contn'd from Pg 1

So she called out to the stranger and asked for a ride
Snow had fallen heavily and already piled three feet high
When she climbed into the four-wheel truck never giving it another thought
Before he headed down the highway, he went into a crowded...

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I hear the chirruping of birds.
It emerges from vast hidden spaces
from wherever the birds may be.
Their twittering sounds are scattered,
interspersed with cricket sounds
and the intermittent whimpers of a lonely pup
that seems to be a distance not too far away.
The birds refuse to show themselves. 
They...

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Form: Infinite Dot Thirteen Verse Is a rare form of poetry, where by the poem is made up of thirteen lines and within the poem has interspersed dots for emphasis on the spoken word. However the total number of dots must add up to 33,...

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Dinosaurs just loved to take the floor and dance
On tippy toes the size of garden sheds
And when they did they’d sashay strut and prance
Harmonic beats would shake Jurassic beds

They tripped the light fantastic verging heavy
Their favourite moves were known as the galumphs
You’d find them all...

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One little sidestep off the beaten track, 
Is a colorful garden of dazzling shades,
With blood red geraniums of scintillating hue
Interspersed by those of white and baby pink,
Where beauty sings mysteriously, 
Reigning in every theme, a place of bliss
Where silence speaks for itself,
Where bees are the...

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I wander through my journey, interspersed with joy and pain, always grateful 
Though not by choice, some days are somber; yet others follow with abundant joy
In my solitude, memories come alive with the recall of some old song from another time
When life was carefree in...

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I never thought I’d keep a record of my pain
or happiness
like candles lighting the entire soft lace
of the air
around the full length of your hair/a shower
organized by God
in brown and auburn
undulations luminous like particles
of flame
 
But now I do
retrieve an afternoon of apricots
and water interspersed...

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If you only shout,
And are full of doubt,
On how to carry on,
When you turn the radio on,
Or no longer turn the tv on,
As fake is the new norm,
Interspersed with news of a new storm.
It may be time to take a walk by the river,
Even if...

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Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...

Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat

tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest suburban tract,
(actually yours truly some watt
urbanely sprawled out) at

Latitude: 40.2538...

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And now the season has begun
the darkened skies have covered the sun
the sound of thunder is interspersed
by lightning striking on the earth
the winds increase in motion swift
they sway and bend the limbs of trees
and then there is a gentle breeze
a torrent of  rain cascades...

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“The heaventree of stars” (in Ulysses as said Joyce)
“hung with humid nightblue fruit” (ah that Bloomian voice)
could evoke a masterpiece the world has come to know,
The Starry Night, so treasured now, by Vincent van Gogh…

In Vincent’s time that painting left even him bemused,
since a ‘failure’...

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