woman wearing face mask crying
public-poetry writings

Let me stand among the wailing Women. By Mary Naylor.

Smoke, still rising from that yet Warm and awesome mound. Two THOUSAND souls, now gray, dry, flakes; Residue, tossed in the wind, brushed aside As if it were nothing, those who once Laughed, breathed, talked, cried – SCREAMED! One doesn’t need to have known Them to bow one’s head and murmur A prayer. Let me […]

public-poetry writings

A Jellyfish.By Marianne Moore.

Visible, invisible, A fluctuating charm, An amber-colored amethyst Inhabits it; your arm Approaches, and It opens and It closes; You have meant To catch it, And it shrivels; You abandon Your intent— It opens, and it Closes and you Reach for it— The blue Surrounding it Grows cloudy, and It floats away From you. Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2020 william Sinclair MansonAll […]


A red red rose. Robert Burns.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose   That’s newly sprung in June;O my Luve is like the melody   That’s sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,   So deep in luve am I;And I will luve thee still, my dear,   Till a’ the seas gang dry. Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,   And […]



Soft music plays. Her eyes crease in reminiscence. Tears settle in the corners of her memory. Each phase of her life is alive with sparkle and glimmer. Baby skin soft and silky mirrors pearl radiance. Diamond sparkled childhood races amid Easter dresses and merry-go-rounds. Soul mate and passion akin to ruby red vibrancy introduce adulthood. […]


Grandmas lookin.

Grandma enters the basement. A single bulb lights the room. Will she locate the skillet? Has she thrown it away? She searches… inside the antique pie safe, on the shelves crammed with canned beans, peaches and tomatoes. She glances under old newspapers, scattering dust everywhere in her haste to find the old black skillet. An […]


Address to the Devil.

O Prince, O chief of many throned pow’rs!That led th’ embattled seraphim to war!(Milton, Paradise Lost)O thou! whatever title suit thee,—Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!Wha in yon cavern, grim an’ sootie,       Clos’d under hatches,Spairges about the brunstane cootie       To scaud poor wretches! Hear me, Auld Hangie, for a wee,An’ let poor damned bodies be;I’m sure […]

public-poetry writings


What treasures rest within the lofty room above my bed? Vintage clothing? Grandpa’s steamer trunk? An old-fashioned baby crib? I wonder… I slip the bolt to peek inside… dust motes mingle with red gold sunlight casting bronze patina on a cache of memories, footprints of passage. A tri-mirror vanity dominates the room reflecting sepia images […]

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