The nightingale flutters on its wings
And lighting on a branch he sings
Voices the song of his spirit
Brings joy to all that hear it
With pen and paper in my hand
I listen to my heart’s command
I hope that someday I can be
Like the nightingale flying free
Featured Image: Photograph from Natureconservationimaging.com.
. Scarlet Pimpernel Amassing clouds—the air still warm; But you, my scarlet pimpernel, You sense that there's a coming storm,...
The Devil at Woodstock I was a mere sixteen that Summer day We all piled in a beat-up car and...
Thank you for the excellent poetic history lesson, Margaret. May courage not fail us.
Hello Margaret C. This is, indeed, an ominous poem. My mind returns to the relatively "innocent" mid-century decades when corruption,…
Some creditable couplets ( if I can add to the descriptors of 'gnomic verses' and 'aphorisms'). The first half are…
Hi, Margaret. Like Jeremiah, I've read about this chapter of Mexican history through the lens of Graham Greene, so it…
night in the trenches – one cigarette butt passes from hand to next hand momijigari – along the old path…
Dear Heather,
You made my day with my poem. It brightens up my day, and I needed that after my computer broke down earlier this week.
Beautiful, Heather! It brings to mind Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees,” partly because of the tetrameter couplets, and especially the “e” rhyme at the end.