Best Shibboleth Poems

Resolved: I’ll make a MOCKERY of death,
metaphoric wake may open my eyes.
I’ll ADORN kitchen walls with shibboleth -
an OPULENCE of signs which look passé.
using words...

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Before the day turned into night
A nascent sun, spun brilliant light.
A vast kaleidoscope alight
Nature's tinted hues soothing sight.

Romance true nature, appeasing
Soul with its eyes and...

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Frustration

These days my frustration is digital in that `Brave New World'
              ...

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Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
     I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,
    ...

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-- Re:  Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --

What would Gertrude. What, Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what thought?Thought thought...

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The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.

Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice

from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,

while...

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A Journeyman

Prologue and Epitaph:

I am the fool, the jester, clown, a harlequin, charade, façade of many
shades and colours, mascara over broken fragments, dead and gone

1)	Megalomaniac...

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Old Friends

Come, sit with me and share some idle talk,
Of cabbages and kings, of life and death.
Or else, perhaps, opining as we walk,
We could discuss...

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Confidence fades away
Clothes to the wind
My cracking glass, the nightscape
Contorted into vixen reds and apparition dark
Seventeen

Kitsch eyes, as kitsch as a child
Crying in a kitchen...

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"Great Pleasures awaits those who follow the path of the Earthstar,
who adhere to the laws of nature, to the real self,
who abide in...

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Eight inches of snow saw no hat on his head
an act of derring-do, my father said,
   He ascended the steps
   the...

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Oh, such amorous flamenco
A bailaora who whirls  fervidly
Nascent paltriness, a winged coo
Unruffled yet sways seamlessly

To grasp is to grin and bear it
To ace is...

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As little child walked in the field of flowers,
  Picking and smelling them as she grows,
  The pervading air fragrance of Guava
 ...

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At Stonehenge poised for morn in deepest darkness,
We beckon Lady Ceridwen, our Goddess Crone,
And mark Samhain’s quiet constant stillness,
To death in Yule we walk with...

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The Fault Line

My son sent me a message from the Grand Canyon and a boyo he is
        ...

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