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Everyday
As I make my way
To the town
Hospital
I see a ragged wasp nest
Dangling from a tree;
I’m waiting
For the grey mummy-
Mask to fall,
So I can
Run over it with my car–
Ghost-wasps do not sting.
skat@2018
Winter is coming,
Habited juncos return—
Little grey nun-birds!
skat@2018
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Bumblebee,
soon you will die, so
I try to
warm you up
on a sunshiny flower,
and feed you honey.
skat@2018
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It’s so sad
when summer’s flowers
start to die;
stems straggle,
leaves turn brown and petals drop–
I could almost cry.
skat@2018
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Thirty-one,
“Feels more like forty”.
Forecast says:
Around 5:00,
stormy weather will arrive–
kill summer at last.
skat@2018
Reflections from a contemplative window
the quill that shatters glass
Setting up a Brand-New Life in London
a creative writing notebook by Bill Bisgood
by Lize Bard
Alex Markovich. 40 y.o. Russia. Artist. Author. MarkovichUniverse AT gmail DOT com
poems, flash fiction and photographs
Writing is ..., it just is ...
My Pen Writes of You When I Write of Me
thoughts, anecdotes and snapshots stumbled upon
Fumbling by Leisure, Singing to Cake
because the story must be told
Diary of a Canadian Winter Garden
by Scooj
A Continuing Revolution
home of the elusive trope
"Literature is language charged with meaning." Ezra Pound
