July 4, 2026
Barbeques are manned by men
in their fresh, well-manicured lawns
while laughing children play freeze tag,
babies recline in Mom’s embrace,
and hotdogs populate every plate.
June 27, 2026
June 26, 2026
I like that epigram’s a short
or witty aphorism sort,
that’s meant to make a reader laugh.
It’s not a thing with epigraph.
June 22, 2026
June 21, 2026
Enchantment swirls on this, the shortest night
as moon glow’s humid breath among the trees —
June 21, 2026
Father’s Day. Another way to older get — and yet, I bet we feel younger with a hunger thinking of the ones we love...
June 21, 2026
Get up before dawn with bright beams, hunting worms. Gather rods and reels. Bobbers and hooks make the tackle complete.
June 21, 2026
A million times, I needed you. A million times, I cried. If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.
June 18, 2026
The late hours
of the night
are for poets, owls and toads
some who fill pages with poems,
pensive and rotund
June 13, 2026
Brothers, sisters we are called. With these words,
a beacon of hope was being built. Mom believed;
June 9, 2026
The brass band sounded the bugle call — the final roll call to signal ‘lights out’ for a man who will never die.
June 5, 2026
I had to find a place
for the pigment painted elephant
from India who wanted me to be part
of the Holi festival so we could all
splash each other with the bright colors
of knowing more