Best Thoreau Poems

Henry David Thoreau
Spent two years in a one room chateau 
Went to the pond to dip his booty
No dice – lifeguards off-duty...

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Apples red, apples round.

Apples frozen on the ground.

Yellow-mellow apples,

many speckled, bruised and brown.

Henry ate them

when he went wooding.

Said they tasted like apple pudding....

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Memories Of Youth And Nature, Were A True Blast
In collaboration with Robert Lindley

Beautiful dawn a Nature walk would do one good
Across the flower filled pond,...

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O' Cenobite, Dar'est Thy Soul Await

Alas! By what right is such assailing
amidst uproar, then half-truths a'telling
Does not morn gift upon grass falling dew
yet truth perseveres...

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Sound of rumbling midnight train awakens young girl. The glow of nightlight invites her to soiree with poetic guests who, on inked pages, dwell. She...

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I never told anyone how my ears reverberate in a silent room.
The whirring drone ever present, a conquistador of my private spaces.
This is my cohabitation...

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Upon my fence alit a pretty sparrow
Her stay was brief, and yet I felt more noble
Than if the visit were of king or pharaoh


(inspired by...

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Friendships come and friendships go
Some may fail, some may grow
But some are cherished from the start
But honesty and loyalty has to come from the heart
Friends...

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My hero is Henry David Thoreau
Rather than pay taxes, to jail he’d go
     With Uncle Sam’s hand out
   ...

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I was newly thirteen when the seventies took me underwing,
then married and grown when they creased inside time’s fold.

I was not attracted to those scholastic...

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My miss for Daddy is twenty years old
with its feel constant in my heart’s deep hold.
To hear his voice and be in his presence,
would be...

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The Grandmasters of Poetica
Make the mass of us look small;
While I can’t speak for thee and they
I gladly take the fall.
From goodness grace, 
That unfathomable...

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I read other people's poetry and I wonder to myself, 
Where do they conjure up their massive vocabulary?
The words I don't know, I write down;...

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Like Thoreau I sought out Walden’s Pond
For me, it was my grandmother’s field of soybeans
Lost in the bowels of a small gray shed I fancied...

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How does one compete with a Frost or a Keats,
a Dickinson or Whitman for words,
how can we say in our language today
what we feel within...

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