There is something holy in the hiss of a gas lantern, percolating coffee and gentle song of morning birds.
Friday, January 3, 2020
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Dashboard Poet
You may also communicate with me by writing to: Coldrainandwind@aol.com....... I will answer every e-mail.
Subscribe To
Posts
Comments
The Sorrowful Man
O, Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie
An Incomplete Glimpse into the Poet
- The Dashboard Poet
- Aurora, Illinois, United States
- I am an Irish/Cherokee/American that loves language and is fascinated with words. Nothing about me is remarkable. I am simply a pilgrim on his journey home. I am the great grandson of the Cherokee and Rebel, the grandson of an Arkansas sharecropper, and the son of a soldier. As for who I am...look to those from whom I've risen. I am a piece of the American puzzle. Most of the work contained in this blog have their origin in my experiences. Some of the poems are rooted in pure imagination. You may guess which is which!
Storm Warning
Eyes to the Skies
READERS' FAVORITES OVER LAST 30 DAYS:
-
Love me, please . Love me again. The maple tree Beneath whose canopy She stood Was a blaze of golden flame. Leaves fell between us ...
-
I’m plucking my bowstring While she plucks her eyebrows. She’s counting her wishes While I’m out counting cows. She talks t...
-
Master of the Obvious.....#76 If you cannot determine a man's value by the caliber of his soul, hispedigree will tell you nothing.
-
A drawn line of battle is a heart-stopping thing. An object of dynamic power kicking you in the gut causing a man t...
-
No more shall we lace these up for to journey to the kill. Never again to thirst for blood for the glory or the thrill. Lay we down our ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment