Poem of the Week
May 4
small time gods
By neanderthal
when it comes to this:
a cold puddle filling up
by icy increments
well by then it was over
in keeping with it all
that had come before they
conscientiously wiped away
at it, but couldn't keep up
not understanding the meaning
of "over" they daubed away
at it with bed sheet and blankets
the icy puddle sighed,
like some small time god
who was only in it for the money
April 27
Driftwood
By Antonova
Floating gently on the tide,
Meekly hugging the shore
Vowing to keep close to home
Never seeking more
Oh, how foolish to assume
That drifting keeps you near
Even gentle sun filled days
Cannot hold you here.
When those certain storms descend
Sweeping you to sea
You will find you've drifted
Where you never meant to be.
Email: grinningdog@webtv.net
