MY DAY, a poem

          

         What is there

          to say

          nothing happens

          in my day

          Evenings are much

          the same

          no one else

          to blame

          Treasure pleasure

          in taking

          life’s measure

          ignore the aching

                   (Aug. 22, 2017)

A suggestion try my novel, BEN CONNOLLY in the PARIS COMMUNE, on Kindle

A WOMAN IN WINTER, a poem

          

          Life has burned away

          leaving a body in disarray

          a woman grown very old

          suffering never-ending cold

          Every day is wintertime

          gone is the warmth so sublime

          no longer a promise of spring

          to make the aged soul sing

          Does celebration or doom

          await in the misty gloom

          no knows what lies ahead

          ignore all trivial dread

                              (Aug. 2, 2017)

A suggestion try my novel, BEN CONNOLLY in the PARIS COMMUNE, on Kindle