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Tag Archives: Poetry

Fallen Heroes

Salutes, painful tears

Bagpipes, drum corps, half mast flags

Starched creases, shoes shine

Dull gray skies, mourn the fallen

Killed in the line of duty


Day #23: A Reprise

Sitting in a bar

Caesar salad, check

Bacon Mac ‘n’ cheese, check

Beer here

Beer there

Checked the blogosphere

Time to write

But wait

TV screen

NBA playoffs

And who should appear?

chris anderson #1

Yes, it’s him

A poster child

chris anderson #2

Yes, I’m old

I’m conservative in ways

Tattoos being one

But I want a tattoo

Small, discreet, meaningful

Just not … well

A body mural?

chris anderson #3

And the mohawk

And the … again, well

Really?  I wonder sometimes

If he wasn’t 6’10”

Where would he be?

Day 23: A Return to NaPoMo


Can hurt

Leaving scars

And pain behind

Faded memories, better left unsaid

Words can bridge divides, forge community

Speak peace and love

Share, don’t slash

Heal the


Day #18: A Preview

Up top, there’s a tab for The Irrepairable Past, which holds drafts of the first couple of chapters for one of my works in progress.  I’ve completed the first three chapters and am halfway there with chapter four and the final chapter.  There are two or three chapters between four and the last.  As I’ve written before, there are two major things that prompted this story.  One was reading a short story by a friend.  He wrote poetry for years and only recently had started writing short stories.  How he wrote was pretty incredible and I could see how poetry had influenced his efforts.  I decided to try something.  With each chapter of The Irrepairable Past, I begin with a poem that says something about what’s to come in the chapter.  I believe the writing in this story has been influenced by those poems — they set the stage for a different rhythm and pace.  Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

Anyway, here, for Day #18 of NaPoMo, is the poem that leads off the final chapter


Slings and arrows

Harsh glares

Cutting words

Scars cut


Deep and wide

Memories and regret

Pain and anguish

Loss and failure

The past

Broken and shattered


A moment

An opportunity

Turn it back


Day #17: A Lark

Too tired to care

No words up there

The cupboard was bare

Wait, is that a hare?


In such a state, did I dare

To cycle through weather, windy and fair

Oh, what a glorious pair


Do you notice the sun’s glare

The one in back, quite the stare

My mind a blank is somewhat rare

This is what happens beware

Here’s the halfway where


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