Cometh the hour
cometh the man
Time in the cross hairs
— fate to command
(Dreamsleep: October, 2025)
In stalwart meadows
stout egress, god wiz ingress
locum hope in spring
Written: January 29, 2022
2nd Place Contest Winner
NEWNESS senryu Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
My gyne doctor’s understandin’
The locum I saw was outstandin’
Although he’s retired
His skills are required
He’s happy he still keeps his hand in!
05/20/20
August night
Dark, starless night sky, a sliver of the moon
golden scythe is mowing down the old.
Harvest time, forgot to close the window,
a chill settles in ancient lungs evil coughs.
Church bells toll the day; the day is hot and
gives nothing away, the old priest is on holiday.
The locum is clumsy, hasn`t had a bath for months,
a murmur of discontent.
The cleric sweats there is a smell of booze
a church’s reject; they do take care of
their own. This isn`t swine flu nothing to
report, the old dying as they must
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