Throwing Spiteballs

Grown men stand on stage
Hollering, pointing fingers
Earth quakes, man trembles.

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Candidates orate
Promises proliferate
Hot air obfuscates.

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False Signals

Like late winter’s warmth
Fleshed-out buds simulate spring.
Snow lurks inside clouds.


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The Craftsman’s Hinge

The iron hinge
is shaped
like a butterfly wing.

It holds the door
in place
and does not

(Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar. Imagism: “Direct treatment of the “thing” whether subjective or objective; …use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation….” January 28, 2016.)

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Birth of a Man of the Sea

Glowing golden flickers
of celestial fire
blaze along the horizon line
and define the separation
of sea and sky.

A lone man revels
in nature’s phenomenon
as long shadows cast
by wind-filled sails
shade cadenced swells
that corrugate the surface
of a near-tranquil ocean
and a white-hot sun
begins its ascent
and burns through
the rising early morning haze.

The man views the naissance
of a fresh salt-air day
as slate-gray clouds part
to allow narrow glimpses
of a pink-and-gold
striated heavenly sphere
no longer cursed
with the ominous black shroud
of previous night skies.

The man bathes
in the tranquil
rhythm of peace
watching waves break
as rhythmic rollers
rather than
as merciless manifestations
of the anger of the gods.

Suddenly the sea is ablaze
a living ocean of molten silver
floating on waters thick
with glowing, iridescent gems
of many colors.
It is plankton
not the supernatural
that break apart
and scatter
when the ship cuts through
the splendid light show.

As morning moves to noon
the glorious azure blue
of sky and water
blur the once-clear horizon line
to create a world
both encapsulated
and without end.
The metaphor of opposing illusions
weighs heavy on the man of the sea
as he contemplates
shattered sea sparkles
and past, present and future lives.

(Written for dVerse Poetics: Ecopoetry. January 26, 2016.)

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Historical Fiction

History writers.
Wordsmiths who venerate truth.
Facts spawn fantasy.

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Buds on magnolia trees
flaunt pink tips and lush bodies
anxious to shed their cold-weather skins.
Crocus and daffodil leaves stand tall
to decorate their earthen comforters
and shelter adolescent blooms.
All will wither and die
as winter snows dance spring
back into hibernation.

Written for dVersePoets, Quadrille 1 (a 44-word poem that includes the word dance, used with an object). January 18, 2016.

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