Recently Set Up a Second blog

I just wanted to inform anyone who might subscribe or visits that I have recently set up a second blog. Please check it out. Thanks. This new blog contains a lot more resources on poetry learning.

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On Trudeau and the Freedom Convoy – A Poem by JP

Today the sun is outAnd the world’s no darker,It’s just the veil has liftedAnd the shelter once takenNo longer prevents youFrom knowing the darknessIs always at the endOf the warmth of the day.

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Blood as Wine

The king still sits on golden throne
drinking our blood as wine;
he needn’t skippers to sail the ocean’s tides,
he needs our hearts and minds.

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Apples

If I gaze at an apple
and smoke with a shaman
who plucks with bended knee
the apple red of famous mythology

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Smoke Signals

Time cares not what the clock will say
of the foul pit of yesterdays,
because a truth strikes its chord

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Relatively Big

They are very small things, the small plankton,
The atoms of oxygen, the words said

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We Break

We break
as the newspaper
and anchorman read
teleprompter like,

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I Need You

I need you
because I need you,
not because
I need you,

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Tom MacDonald The Musical Dragon

Let me tell you ’bout Tom, the musical dragon,the muse of angels and the fire of hella rapper who’s not here to sell you xanex,music that doesn’t conflict with the truth.Keep calm, stand tallthe gloves have come off and roof is on fireand we’re all still alive, just barely breathin’.Didn’t know what we needed was

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To smoke

In the hay fieldsthe horse hooves hammer home;he rides on haunted hills,on hell, on a black horse,on my last breath as handswrapped around a throatand the cancer, surelyto come if I continue.

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Found in Notes on phone

Beneath the waves a gyre turns it’s gaze.Awake, at last, that sleeping giant is loosedonce more upon the world. Anarchy is the rulethat sets the center askew; the antichrist is surely near.The shooter, his rifle, is surely at hand;surely there’s some terrorist plan,surely the boogeyman has come to bearthose Freddy claws and leave us turning

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The Ponzi and the Poor

I know that I usually post poetry, but as of yet I haven’t quite the words for the topic that I am about to tackle as least not in the form of a poem. Nevertheless, I do feel compelled to write. The year was 1776, the Declaration of Independence was signed, and a symbol of

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On a Possible Future

The beetle takes the last emerald
that’s jutting from the snow;
a nature more valuable

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Bent and Broken

Neither mother, maiden, nor crowne
can morn more the passing of this nation

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Guidance Systems

Divisions unite us:
The righteous verses all
who dare to dream on false idol

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We

Since first we rose from ocean’s active mud,
since fins became the bending of legs,
since legs hadn’t yet the strength,

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The Compass

My conscience is a needle’s point
that is thread through the days behind;

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To Future Lands

I’ve heard the talk of proof that is puzzling you

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On Loss

I wished to see your smile,
but got only pain the while—

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Should I Compare You To a Winters Morn – Sonnet 18 Shakespeare Mirror

Should I compare you to a winters morn?
You are more bitter and more discontent

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