The Moon in Poetry
Aware Slowly the moon is rising out of the ruddy haze, Divesting herself of her golden shift, and so Emerging white and exquisite; and I in amaze See in the […]
The Moon in Poetry Read More »
Aware Slowly the moon is rising out of the ruddy haze, Divesting herself of her golden shift, and so Emerging white and exquisite; and I in amaze See in the […]
The Moon in Poetry Read More »
Parky, renowned world traveler, loves to fly. He skyped about his globe-trotting penchant with fellow poet Robert Frost, who, in light of the upcoming World Parkinson Congress, gave Parky permission to
Parky Puns Another Poem! Read More »
Birches When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. But swinging doesn’t bend
Limitations The subtlest strain a great musician weaves, Cannot attain in rhythmic harmony To music in his soul. May it not be Celestial lyres send hints to him? He grieves
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Parky skyped with Emily Dickinson tonight, then rewrote her “I’m Nobody” poem to kick start his travel plans for the upcoming World Parkinson Congress! I’m Parky! Who are you? Are you –
Parky Pens Another Poem! Read More »
Sounds of the Winter Sounds of the winter too, Sunshine upon the mountains—many a distant strain From cheery railroad train—from nearer field, barn, house The whispering air—even the mute crops,
Naturally, it’s a poem about the sun. Best wishes to everyone! Spring will be here soon! I Have News For You (9th Century Irish Poem) I have news for you:
Holiday Greetings from Parking Suns! Read More »
An Old Man’s Winter Night All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
The Sun and Moon in Poetry Read More »
The Lighted Window He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming with rain, I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed, Thinking of all my problems that
Heavy Threads When the dawn unfolds like a bolt of ribbon Thrown through my window, I know that hours of light Are about to thrust themselves into me Like omnivorous
The Sun in Poetry (and Quilts) Read More »