Poetry

WAR It results in lose-lose situationsThat are felt throughout all the nations.It causes ideologies to live in headsAnd makes strangers of people and their bedsInnocents are refugees, all in a

Virtue Virtue was chased down the avenue, Her garments billowing in the wind; Soft ankles could be seen. Her eyes reflected puzzled shock, As hard she sought to cover Her frightened face

I Am As Young As I Feel Like When I was eightyI was a spring chicken.Floated on air,Danced in my kitchen. When I was ninetyI thought it was time toStop

I’m so happy Bryson’s punch Is still around for lunch. The lime was a flavor That you could really savor It was so citrussy nice If you had it with

I’ve thought of things I cannot write.
They’re of a language yet unspoken.
I’ve soared above high peaks at night,
And shattered rings men thought
Could

I’ve Drawn a Blank I’ve drawn a blank; can’t think of what to say. My thoughts, like migrating birds distracted from their route, have flown into the farthest recess of