My Blanket (Senryu)

on cold winter days
ensconced in poetry’s arms
snuggling her words

© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019

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February

no longer comforted
by the stillness of the night

no longer warmed
by the soft morning light

these vicious winds
of February
leave this winter-swept vessel
chilled and weary

© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019

YOU Have the Power

*For Free Verse Revolution’s Free Thought Thursday’s February Writing Prompt #2 – You

you
were born
with everything
you need
to become
whoever it is
you want to be

you
will die
being whoever
it is
you’ve become

the time in between
is yours
to use
in any way
you wish
to make sure
you arrive
at that destination
knowing
you gave it
your all
with what
you were given
to work with
in this life

© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019

Of Stalking, Strutting and Squawking

*I don’t usually feed the crow but following another one of his cyber-bullying episodes, against a writer whose work I have commented on, I felt compelled to write this. This is, at least, the fifth or sixth attempt by this bully to have female writers unfollow me ‘or else.’ His general angle is to find a comment I’ve made and then comment beneath it. And, it’s only against females. I wonder why…oops, make that, anyone who comments below.

the cyber crow
an undiscovered
Rembra(nd)t or
Pic-ass(h)o(le)
stalks and
struts about
squawking his
one-liner wisdom
masterpieces
at innocent passersby
happy as long
as no one
challenges
his short comings
or rejects
his Casanova-ish flare
for the once glorified
who find places on his
museum walls
become fodder
for his screen-shot drivel
as he walks around
with his chest out
repeating threats
while squabbling about
in his own
fecal matter

© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019

It’s Not Personal

it’s not
personal but
roads you now travel
i’ve traversed
and i’ve had enough of
broken lines
miles without
a rest stop
and the power
poles always seemed
to lean
too close
to cobbled emotions
clunking about
in my steady heart beats

truth be told
i was looking for
a quiet back road with
fresh asphalt
not a freeway
worn to the gravel
and i was sick
of hearing
loud billboards
shouting intimacies
i thought were only
written in the
driving log

it’s not
personal but
i’m just not
interested
in traveling
those haunted highways

© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019