Best Pretense Poems

Have a lovely day


Pushed now to the limit by a never ending whisper
Lost behind the meaning of a question I can’t hear
Dreaming of a day...

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there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment...

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There is a proverbial hypocrisy to
'See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil'

when sinister perversions, 
lurk behind closed doors,
contained inside four walls.

What is a...

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A kind word, of course,
Can soothe the flustered soul or bring a smile
To a frowning face. That’s a given, but
In one’s troubled times, words still...

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Who knows if magic exists,
if dreams come true
and whether miracles take place
(all of these things we thought we knew)

... buried in our haste
to dig childhood's...

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O' Butterfly, a child, disgraced 
Bewitched without a chance
Beguiled, exquisitely endowed. Frail wings held no escape
Such innocence would glaze her eyes, as gossamer might do

He...

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Sigh you wind whispering willows
Green sentinels of the ocean blue
Her feet edge no more the billows
Where canoes dock and salt sprays spew
Sigh for the loss...

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Be it evidence consequence or coincidence
Every night as I succumb to somnolence

Heavenly smoke rings of frankincense
Rise upwards with sweet opulence

Dulcet dreams inevitably commence
Without fanfare hype...

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Finding love is our unsure heart’s goal as edged on by our confident souls.  Some journey through life with love as their primary dream,...

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"Nuts are in the soup!" 
That's what I've heard: not so absurd
Some add a pinch of spice now and then,
from wit and the sharpened nib...

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You are a thorn, borne deep in my heart
   The prick that sticks me with each breath I take
A tether, whether I want...

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Simple Man, Just Striving To Have A Simple Soul

There was no great air of mystery about him
tho' kind, too much of his life had been...

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Empath whispers hold covered silence
desires whisk away with the moon
earth tone times of trepidation 
dragged off and hidden in the ruin

pain stains blush red under...

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A Look Back at Eighteen Months Here-The Show is Over

When your poems reside in a shoe,
like mine,
pounding the pavement to nowhere.
The onset of blisters isn't...

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"Where do we poets go?”
I wish I could know
and trace a path of glory
which I admire in awe.
*****
The words I do follow
into them resides my...

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