Best Plucks Poems

Standing before the microphone,
blank faces stare from cushioned chairs
Jewels sparkle, acting like they’re real,
while bow ties just seem sad…it happens

Marching to the beat of clicking...

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One’s poetry not always will unfold
beneath its author’s pen as some suppose.
And poetry one is to yet behold
might slowly bloom before one plucks that rose.

At...

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She stands at the garden wall
Smells the sweetness of the pink rose
A sweetness only matched by her beauty
A color only matched by the blush of...

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You won't find a yard like this anymore. You'd think it would seem smaller now that I'm an adult, but it doesn't. It's still enormous,...

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I’m living in anticipation
With other cigarettes who are also growing impatient 
We’re waiting
Praying 
To be the next chosen one 
Now, the door opens and we’re...

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How I admire the lyrical poetess!
She, who watches nature's beauty all around,
yearns to feel the wind of summer's soft caress
as she listens for the magic...

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TWO FACED HEAVEN


I walk slow in a globe of puffy clouds 
Dancing midair, a concerto, harp plucks
From right to left are angels in white shrouds
their...

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Lifting the Veil

You see, Mr Bilton, Sir
This trumpet that you gave me
Fails my musical sense to stir
A guitar would surely save me

A guitar is all...

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When visions crawl into his dream
to grate against a hilltop’s ire,
a sheriff flicks like soft campfire
where hazy winds dip low ,midstream.
Bandit frays stab a roguish...

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HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY

Her hand’s swan-like dance,
ivory shadow puppets
romance. Hungarian rhapsody.

The musician sans existence
as emotive fingers move
imaginary marionettes
with splendiferous precision.

Drama drops onto piano keys
occasionally taking a gentle...

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this boy - 
he is mythology
he is the pomegranate sitting in persephone's 
palm - 
(looks can be deceiving)

this boy - 
he is a mirror
can show...

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*Like Caesar I wrote this in the 3rd person:) 

In third person he talks just like Caesar
Stuffing bagfuls of sweets in the freezer
Mumbles loud in...

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When evening’s bass tone whips a refrain
Strummed by an old man  in our country yard; 
A most haunting string--movement  dims the air
Reminiscent of...

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She whispers, “He loves me; he loves me not,”
as she plucks the dewy petals off a daisy.
She thinks of the misery that loving him has...

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Love take me 
in one breath away 
fruit of dreams 
your are 
the sweet aroma 
in one's mind eclipsed

Angel feathers 
striking records time 
Harp plucks...

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