Long Doxy Poems

April 9th, 2024 would be ninety fifth birthday poem for dearly departed papa

The following words crafted soon after the soul of me daddy set adrift into the empyrean realm joining the rank and file of...

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April 9th, 2023 birthday poem for dearly departed papa

Borne aloft into the netherland
the body bearing thee soul   
of Boyce Brandon Harris
birth name given to my late father
buoyed aloft united with spirit
of mine late...

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April 9th, 2025 birthday poem for dearly departed papa

Elysian fields long since embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad shy of 
fifty four plus months ago,
nevertheless melancholia
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine...

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April 9th, 2021 birthday poem for dearly departed papa

Elysian fields embraced dada's soul
which rocketed into aerospace
(courtesy General Electric satellite)
just a tad more'n six months ago,
nevertheless melancholy
still plucks mine heart strings.

Mine psyche still situated awry
placid countenance...

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Literate lettered latitudinarian

Presents the following slapdash
higglety-pigglety bupkis, whereby reader
experiences being mentally hogtied
perusing pseudo poetic perambulation
devoid of sense and sensibility
welcoming character assassination
concerning pride of yours truly,
who merely strung together
words sharing "arian"

as their last five letters
for no...

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Friendly pirate wannabe flies his Jolly Roger...
while surfing cyber seas today March 2nd, 2021.

Actually yours truly quite a literate codger
(ah shucks just missed being draft dodger)
no not for baseball team, but Vietnam War
circa November 1,...

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Courtesy Gretchen Rubin's four tendencies...

Yours truly classified as rebel
after accessing https://quiz.gretchenrubin.com/.

I thank Renée J. Cardone
affiliated with Spring Ford, Pennsylvania
telehealth services mental health therapist
courtesy doxy.me web portal
not quite twenty four hours ago 
February eighth, 2021
informing me...

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Do not fall in love with a poet:
Breakfast would be a couplet. 

Lunch would be  a quatrain:
Personified, pithy and prolix on metaphoric train. 

Supper would be a sonnet:
Smithereens of oomphs, entangled in esurience's ...

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I am archaic and forgotten these are my  dusty tomes
The perennial deipnosophist verbally alone

With flowing ink my guide, the page my diligent doxy
I capriciously choose my  diction and propose my proxy

A peccant periapt...

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just take off a layer
or walk around
topless 
i am the archpriest
eating sugar puffs
i am the prelate
eating bagels
i am halfway
in
and halfway 
out the window 

the mother-in-law wants it off
i am not for sale
my successors are labouring
like...

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You severed me for your paramour,
My first love, you are mon amour, 

Doxy of love surround your heart, 
Betrayed in the lanes of my sweeheart, 

Sweeping the hectic lanes,
Sleeping in the lonely fanes, 

I feel...

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