Poetry

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

Purple Play Regal, royal, rich in purple tones, Color of ages, sages, textiles, all renowned, And flashing floodlights in a discotheque; Diamonds reflecting purple; sparks aglow. Pick out that purple