A Magical Spring Sestina

Spring winds warn it's time, to make a long trip---
urgent message sent by wizened wizard.
I spy him wrapped tight, clothed in blue toga;
birch staff held aloft, drenched by driving rain.
The moon above is a silvery ellipse,
silently he shouts my magical word.


A certain power surges in the word;
magic shouted loud, an ancient cantrip---
to arc upon sound waves elliptical.
Young and old alike speak so wizardly,
syllabic power to incite the rain,
while unawares hide wrapped in wet togas.


Magicians all love to give thrills, to gas.
Proud orators too, fill the air with words,
soak the listening, watching crowd like rain,
soar on wild applause. Psychedelic trip!
They close their eyes tight---think themselves wizards,
with saucers that fly, cavort in ellipse.


Of punctuation, oddest is ellipse,
like freshman at prom, dressed in white togas,
filled both with teen angst, and tech wizardry,
versed in hip hop rhyme, writing urban words.
Text and chatspeak fly, while staid grammar trips.
Structure overflows, awash in this rain.


Sitting windowside, skies proclaim hard rain.
Clouds dance over earth's slow curving ellipse.
Storms may well cancel my make-believe trip,
from middle nowhere---to Saratoga.
I hope against hope, await weatherman's word,
watch like Dorothy's traveling sales-wizard.


Maybe I am she, off to see the Wiz---
beg a long weekend, escape from this rain.
Courage, heart, brains are granted at his word...
Note how that line ends with hopeful ellipse?
I think I may don, shiny black toga,
wave bon voyage and enjoy my road-trip!


Send me on a trip! I beseech, Wizard!
Attired in toga, I"ll dance in the rain,
ride this earth's ellipse. Speak that magic word?

Hard Work - A Villanelle

I think sometimes, this is too tough.
When minds don’t meet in the middle.
I wonder when enough’s enough.

We just can’t agree on this stuff.
Your point of view’s such a riddle.
I think sometimes, this is too tough.

You think you’re just calling my bluff.
The same old refrain on the fiddle.
I wonder when enough’s enough.

Before we storm off in a huff.
I say compromise a little.
I think sometimes, this is too tough.

Let’s not growl, our voices too gruff.
Before our two hearts become brittle.
I wonder when enough’s enough.

Hide mercy or peace in your cuff?
I’m really not seeking acquittal.
I think sometimes, this is too tough.
I wonder when enough’s enough.

Weary - A Haiku

seventeen succinct
syllables to describe my
utter exhaustion

On the Road - Haiku

must start the engine
desperately chase yellow lines
‘til I catch my breath

We Decided To Fly -- A Skeltonic Poem

so we decided to ride
down the road so wide
while the spring night died
and the crickets cried
at the song of our wheels
asphalt at our heels.
the horizon steals
color from today’s light.
I’m holding on tight
to my modern day knight.
on a bike we take flight
the yellow line in sight
unfurling ahead of our tires.
we both saw the fires
burning fields like liars
devouring the grassy truth
that life consumes your youth
and leaves you long in tooth.
but tonight we don’t mind
the smoke that tries to blind
as we race ahead to find
escape from the daily grind
and if we’re so inclined
we’ll pull over and we’ll eat
at a diner on some street
tucked away somewhere discreet.
we’ll share desserts so sweet
while the waitress calls us cute
and we map the scenic route
as we ride in hot pursuit
of some fresh new way of seeing
the life we share agreeing
that riding the wind is freeing
and at least for the time being
we’ll spend the night sight-seeing.
maybe find each other there
in the smoky evening air
the wind tearing through our hair
as a springtime ride we share.

Memory - A Triolet

our first kiss was soft and warm
enhanced by a springtime wind
it felt like a gathering storm
our first kiss was soft and warm
as love began to form
I hoped it would never end
our first kiss was soft and warm
enhanced by a springtime wind

Routine - A Pantoum

She boils water for morning tea.
setting out her favorite red cup.
She hums just a little off key,
wondering if the day will warm up.

Setting out her favorite red cup,
she drops the teabag in.
Wondering if the day will warm up,
she decides it’s time to begin.

She drops the teabag in.
Honey she stirs with a spoon.
She decides it’s time to begin.
She hopes for a poem by noon.

Honey she stirs with a spoon.
The blank page is staring now.
She hopes for a poem by noon.
The cat interrupts with a meow.

The blank page is staring now
She hums just a little off key
The cat interrupts with a meow.
She boils water for morning tea.