The young lass Weathersby,
Reared a rake lecher
The boy gained infamy,
As a cruel corrupter
Each conniving victory,
Sent his renown farther
‘Til the repeated story,
Hit the ears of a roamer
She vowed utter destruction,
To get his goat superbly
Leaving the boy’s seduction,
An act even he would decry
Autumn leaves make the crisp air electric igniting my memories scattered from childhood to adult.
Pink clouds reflect morning sunrise
Above the mountain purple skies
Reaching to touch the morning star
A black ribbon afar
Space touches the planet breath
Then exhaling the night’s death
The koy pond sat still.
All the fish deep seeking cold.
Temps high near 100.
Purple flowers love the heat.
Webbed frogs burrow in mud.
My motivational speech is done
The stimulated swim in the future dream
They jump and squeal; their planning begun
“What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.”
Summer banquet never end
We long for your taste embrace
Alas, the fresh baskets now shallow
As the garden planters go fallow
Our winter dreams recall summer
When we ate all wanted at supper.
We scurry across the avenues Sometimes we ride on ocean cruises We sing at festivals Ruining our hearing with high decibels Anything to escape reality choices Our spirit and body rejoices! The natural and manmade spectacles Our summertime travel. From Iceland to Zimbabwe oohs We delight in discovering new hues Our pictures and mementos release chemicals To remind of us of the sights, wonders, and smells! On the projector screen we peruse Our summertime travel.…
Some shout no to corporate welfare And spit on those who say otherwise. Tax loopholes seem unfair, To those who minimize Their day-to-day and scrutinize The monthly budget. The craftsmen yowl this advice, Be a Maker, Not a Taker. An artisan lists out what’s true and fair; A list of various jobs and supplies. To complete his family’s share Of fruited endeavors reprise. The labor like clockwork unifies The sons and daughters sextet. The craftsmen…