Yes, I remember you, my dear–
How could I forget?
Your voice is a babbling brook
To my ears,
Your beauty is soothing
To my eyes,
Your fragrance still lingers
In my nostrils,
And your name is on the tip
Of my tongue.
–Photo by me
We Meet Again
Category: poetry
haiku 126
late summer’s palette
green is almost all used up–
plenty of purple
–photo by me
Limerick 41
A self conscious frog known as Clyde
Had never once seen his backside,
So he asked his mate Clare,
“How’s my camo back there?”
“I think it’s spot on,” she replied.
–photo by me
Sunflower Power
Sunflowers
Have powers
That I
Can’t resist;
They coax me
To smile–
In fact,
They insist.
–photo by me
cool crane (etheree)
an
oddly
lanky crane
was often teased
by the shorter birds;
they called him ichabod,
stilts, or a walking beanpole,
but with a wingspan of six feet
and a pair of laughably long legs,
he rose above it and took it in stride
________________
–photos by me
my guiding light (octelle)
she peers into my home at night
to help me with the poems i write
her moonbeams shine on the page
thus, together, we engage
when i see them thru her eyes
chances are that i’ll revise
she peers into my home at night
to help me with the poems i write
combine cinquain
combine
massive, green
devouring, chomping, spewing
ezekiel’s vision of god
harvester
___________________
–photos by me
Six Word Stories 8/12/22
“Toss it. We won’t need it.”
ruby slippers
our personal
spiritual journey
isn’t about getting there;
it’s not even about
the journey itself–
it’s about realizing that
we’re already there
–photo by me
tipi tears (shadorma)
the tipi
was the perfect home
for the proud
indian–
until white man sentenced him
to life on the rez
__________________
–photos by me
michaeljordahl 