Autumn Hint

Poet's Corner

Moments dance in brittle waves, sparks between the autumn leaves, staining soft the shadowed hints of summer’s slow goodbye.

Dusk defines this edge in time, a poignant blush against the thread of season’s change, such sad lament, soft rose in deeper shadow hides.

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Intuitive Flight

As it Comes

those rainbow birds
always shear the edges
of colour until their liquefied
tinge feeds into blue, yellow, pink
and red to become ultra violet
waves tangoed in the sun’s matted
hair; they massage white specks
of its flaking scalp until flaming
tendrils shake

to free those doves – but they drop like dead
and unlikely ashes – never to rise
again since we have nowhere
for them to fly; the stench is unbearable
and there is nowhere left to perch –

those visionary rainbow birds
usually seek capricious ultramarine sky
and will only fly where the air is

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My mom keeps the fridge

stocked with so many things,

like Sunny D and milk,

and spicy chicken wings.


Eggs and bread and butter,

bottled water, too.

But in the crisper drawer,

I do what I gotta do.


The food I seek out most,

the story I will tell,

Is how I make my sandwich,

and make it all so well.


There’s mayo, bacon, turkey,

pepperoni and cheese,

mustard, pickles, caviar,

and a plain cream cheese.


There’s onions and there’s olives,

no garlic left behind;

There’s ham and tomatoes,

and peppers so fine.


there’s spinach and there’s

mushrooms, peanut butter, chocolate ants,

and it all goes into a croissant just like

I live in France.


That night after eating, my stomach

cries and groans,

downed ten of the Peptos,

and Tums between my moans.



Opposition? Shatter it!


Opposition should not stop you;
Trials should not put you down;
Challenges should not discourage you;
Failure should not kill your determination to win;
Whether it be
Or challenges,
Put them off!
Shatter them!
Or let them make you stronger than ever;
And with that renewed strength
Pull down any mountain on your way;
And win.

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Music Crush

Your drums, they changed my heartbeat

but only for a time-

You got just the right melody,

and effortless rhyme.


Your words, they are not coded,

through your overflow of tears-

a promise from your guitar,

of many, many years.


Yes, your drums, they changed my heartbeat,

but I’m running out of time,

Please play to me your melody,

hear your effortless rhyme.



My friend and I didn’t talk much as we slammed  the sedan’s doors.  Hands in pockets, and hunching into our fleece jackets, we strode quickly to the Starbucks door.  I opened it first, then continued to hold it as a blonde, disheveled young woman of about 25 entered.  There was a barely visible infant strapped to her front, an older toddler with red, chapped cheeks and black, serious eyes in a backpack.  She was trying to lead a preschooler in by the hand. The preschooler, realizing there were a lot of people in here, did a rag doll.

“My hand!  You’re hurting it!” cried out the towhead with dark eyes.

A stab of sympathy turned my heart over in my chest.

“You can go ahead if you need to,” I invited.

“Thank you,”  she said softly.

That’s when I noticed, in spite of a colorless complexion with no makeup and pale, blue eyes, there was a strange glow and softness to the woman.  Her voice was low, gracious, as she corrected her wayward child;  with just enough steel behind it that the child stood erect.

The woman’s  underweight frame was carried with shoulders squared, neck lifted to it’s full swan length.  Her mussed, hastily  swept up hair had a few occasional ringlets that rebelled, softening her square jaw.   The most arresting and ELEGANT to me, though, was the serene eyes.  She seemed to be in a bubble of peace that settled my own heart.  It was completely contradictory to the chaotic breakfast hour in the coffee shop.

After we had paid and received our hot chocolates, I glanced back one last time.  I didn’t see the woman as I left, but the image of her eyes gave me bizarre dreams that night.


In Your Hand

I go when days are golden,

I sing when nights are long;

Sometimes trial is fire,

sometimes a joyful song.


The nuggets that are blessings,

the soft and peaceful times;

when danger shouts it’s triumph,

your word speaks in it’s chimes.


When I’m weakest you are gentle,

if I need it you are tough;

Just knowing I am in your hand

is more than enough.