Best Prolifically Poems

There is an antique writing desk
in my little study
handed-me-down
from generations of would-be
writers in my family

And there are ancient creatures
from days gone by
living in this old...

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THE STATE OF OSTRACISM

Excommunicated by popular vote, I became isolated in a world chosen from birth.
Priests came to convert us, but we were practicing the...

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But I walk along.
Forte to my cause.
A fort of strength…
Militarily built -
     Therefore, must be militarily defeated.
Many say I am a...

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In Africa another day is born
At dawn
The optimist awakes
To a world that’s bright with receding night
Hope and promise of things new
A world where dreams come...

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Is there such a thing
	as a prolifically sad time?
Surely, there is and was and still can be.
Every generation has had it, sees it,
	some, more than...

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Early summer flowering deciduous shrubs, 
And I among them came and went with
Philadelphus virginalis,
Their brightening solar ships.

Its natural tendency is to grow vase-shaped,
Clipping encourages the...

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In the shadows of a
    darkly relinquished night,
 an unrelenting musing beast struck
       presenting a proposition,
...

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A seed is to produce whether it brings forth fruit or the truth.
In life, there is a light that incites and provides insight.
Justice is taught...

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Care to pause and ponder upon
  the mathematical proportional sum
       of that miniscule electron
    ...

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This is not a poem, but since National Writing Day was a couple of days ago, I thought I would share a couple of words...

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I have roles in from the depths of pain;
Relive my life knife games;
Random promises of broken flames;
I was bitter and embarrassed:

I should have prayed;

Mother was...

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I've heard,
but never experienced,
that cleanliness
performs next to godliness.

I'm looking into a game theory
that mental health 
hygiene is also
not not spiritual wealth
co-mediation

Sharing
caring
riding a daily journey
from sacred...

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Life for the Aged

Old age comes with an eighteen wheeler’s load of hurt.
Old age comes with the rest of life, permeated with pain.

Old age comes...

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I am working on a bridge. It is very wide. It is not high. I am very round. But I can fly. Flap flap flap...

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None rankle me like a parent so blind,
  he or she that see what they choose to see.
O readers, I beg of that rudest...

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