Paris, Berlin, Manchester, London ... When will this bad dream end?
Amidst our daily perfunctoriness, have we the assiduity to attend to the greeters beyond the greetings? Are we sure our friends and families are well?
My first take on a limerick. The pesky metre and tricky rhymes are beyond what I initally expected for a lunch-break poem.
Journaling a gloomy day with this quadrille, as I swayed in misunderstanding and waltzed through discord.
Commenting on the most outrageous incident in aviation history using 26 titles from the Billboard of my birth year.
As Grace said, to write one poem, one has to read a thousand of them. And as a new blogger who just spent a month gorging on living, breathing poetry (written by living, breathing poets), and a week and half of subsequent indigestion, I am feeling the emergence of a new voice in my head.