It would appear that
Each one of us are rich in
Our own common sense
Category: Poetry
Woodchips
Exploded timbers
Scattered on gardens, playgrounds
Splinters, fat and thin
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Mute
Want to talk
No shushing
No oppressing
No gagging
Nothing to say
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Morning Routine
An alarm silently rings out.
I boot up
And rise from bed.
Continue reading “Morning Routine”
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Cake
Soda Pop
Fizzles and bubbles
Sugary and spicy-sweet
Lip-smack refreshing
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It’s the End, Again
Pizza
The golden-firm crust
Sweet-tangy marinara
Thick, stringy-hot cheese
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Still
A scratch on the nose
A hand through my hair
A wiggle of the toes
I squirm in my chair
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Secure
Hastily-Made Decision 