I’ve been writing literally since I was three years old, when I would dictate stories for my mother to write down & illustrate them with crayon. My most prolific period was 8th grade when I wrote a novel about a girl who was friends with a dragon. I continued to write throughout all of high…
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The commuters walk like arrows shot from a bow,Wearing their stylish hip-length coats, perfectly groomedThey seem to be staring straight ahead, but really their eyes are lockedOn some internal scene concerning the worries of the day.
It’s the skeptic who needs to doubt himself, It’s the loser who always wins. The rich don’t know the meaning of wealth, And the fish can’t find their fins.
I read this today. Richard Cole, 1929-2013 Grandma told me not to write anything too sad, So let’s start with a laugh.
My heart makes a slow sad sound As I walk through the mist, Not a beautiful song either, more like the mournful bellowing of a dying dinosaur Echoing across the dust-darkened plain
Been awhile since I posted a poem on here. Hope you like it. DNA Today I opened a strand of DNA And watched it unfurl in a ladder of limitless possibilities
I have been compared many times to Belle, because (like her) I will walk around town with my nose in a book, oblivious to everyone around me. I am sure I have been honked at many times in the Financial District for this very habit.
Hi blog readers– here’s a little science fiction story that may amuse you, as a commentary on current events. Taking An Alien to the Mall The new delegation of aliens to the American embassy was much larger than the last one. As a generally reliable paper-pusher in the embassy, I was given the job of…
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We want walking to the Farmer’s Market on a freshly-made morning And the muscians were dropping their scatter of silver notes And the jams glowed in their jars And the lettuces spread their frills like flowers.