Snow Free Verse Poems

In the tremble of the evening and the rustle of the unfinished letter,
My aged hand, shrouded in the mist of memories, writes the last farewell,
Under...

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Traversing this realm of consciousness, where the sun is a stranger,
Some stuff their ears with gales of light, fleeing from themselves,
But there are souls whose...

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green and white sign
"Welcome to Colorful Colorado" 
greets my eyes
as Mt Blanca rises 
smooth and elegant 
as a wedding cake
draped with fondant
late April snow coated
majestic...

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They spread beauty and fragrance
For the sake of it
Expect nothing in return
Friendly with the thorns
They live in grace and peace
And fade with joy

Apropos no motive
They...

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Gathered among lovely nymphs, whose grace shines brightly like eternal stars

Their vibrant essence lingers, embracing radiantly,
In the dream-laden air, does my love pursue only a...

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You come to me, palpable,
The way a candle flickers
When the air is stirred,
A vague mirage, a sense
Of metaphysical existence
But here, nevertheless,
A wondering sensation one never...

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Green Trees Don’t Make It 

Everyday
I look out and see

The ugly green trees
Standing guard 
in front of my house.

And I think to myself
Who owns the...

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'Love Story' Poetry Contest. 
Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh
1st Place. 

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” 
 ...

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We don’t put away our boots and coats.
Here in Michigan.
Instead, we close our eyes and feel a soft presence.
We jerk awake, in our hammocks.
To a...

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Pink petals filled the air
Oh what a lovey vision 
Flowing gently everywhere 
Filling the yards 
And streets as well
As gentle as angels 
Feathers they fell
Unscented...

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The beauty you see in me is a reflection of you- Rumi
             ...

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He is the son 
His mama’s proud son 
She called him Bonny when he was born 
Proud to have a handsome man she says 
He...

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They were exhibited as strange curiosities,
 They all had a face, a name, an identity on this land soiled by negrophobia.
 They looked without seeing,...

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The cold breeze on my face.
Treetops whooping it up.
The wild swoosh of wind.
The first bolt of lightning
and crackle of thunder…

My dad remembers
several feet of snow...

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Deep November,
a shallow time, nonetheless.
The snow is high packed with a cryogenic
amnesia.
Not yet dawn,
a sunken bed
muffles rising thoughts.
An eyelash of cognizance
flits across
thawing synapses.
Then the elastic...

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