October 22



Colossal samara sculpture spinning

The gentle breeze provoking giant seed

Around the garden at a ghostly speed

The bronze patinaed green and weathered well

Enormous silent, it has me grinning

The towering art, not aunaturel


(A Wordsworth Sestet)

October 7

At Rest


Simply resting in the dropseed

Reclined among the beautiful

Mighty fine respite indeed

Gaze stays the same through the seasons.

All my senses I must employ

Remaining right here for reasons

Among the nature I enjoy


I never tire of the view

In fact it energizes me

Through time there’s always something new.

Just leave me right here, I am fine

Under my blanket of grasses

Gathering up all the sunshine

Just art to the passing masses.


(A Saraband Poem)

October 6

Stone Seeds


The acorns soundly lie

Beneath oak trees sky high

Too large to yield to whims of squirrels

Will never multiply

While others sprout nearby

From stone seeds only silence unfurls.


(A Short Particular Measure Poem)

August 4

Nature Distilled


This scene is like something I’ve seen

Just look there’s a hare under there

And a tree with Medusa Hair

A sapphire diamond sky gleams

Soil layers serpentine

Giant blooms sent high in the air

Amazing life when roots aren’t there

It’s nature but there’s no green

Is that a partridge on the limb?

Not a pear so chances are slim

The wild we see distilled to shapes

It’s nature at the artist’s whim

Perhaps as the sun starts to dim

A fractured and compelling landscape.


(French Sonnet)

July 31



A large gray mansion built of Wissahickon schist

With 45 rooms embellished in wood grain

Is more impressive when the details aren’t missed.

Easy to be distracted by size insane

In the small details the real wonder exists

The charm of stone flowers is hard to explain

The home’s grandeur is the point some may insist

It’s these small stone blooms that keep it from mundane


(A Sicilian Octave Poem)

July 19

Permanent Bloom


In a garden full of real blooms

I’m drawn to the metal flowers

On the gates of the garden rooms


Lasting eons instead of hours

Never bothered by garden pests

Patinaed by weather’s power


Within may still find insect nests

Though not a perfect habitat

Upon it you’ll find a bird rests


(An Enclosed Triplet Poem)

June 25

Art at the Tire Shop


I found art in the local tire store

While waiting for four new wheels and rear brakes

I have to wait, what more can I ask for?


What’s hidden inside is a mystery

It’s original form is history


Now a focal piece and a chair no more

Was the start of this a small mistake?

Or has the creator done this before?


You can find art in the strangest places

Beyond museums and display spaces


What artwork do I miss as I explore

Gathering groceries, addressing toothaches

Adding some excitement to what may bore


I need to live with my eyes open wide

Just never knowing where beauty does hide


Art is a lump covered in labels galore

At flea markets and on grocery store cakes

Or the dark doodles on a bathroom door


The art you see is in your state of mind

To what you call art others may be blind


It is of you reader I do implore

Remember in art there is no mistake

A happy accident someone will adore


Art is more than purchases from the store

It’s stickers and stencils and meter breaks

It’s more than home furnishing decor

It can be a chair at the tire store.


(A Gra Reformata Poem)

May 6

Rainy Day Tattooing


Gray, rainy Sunday wrist tattooing

Why not? What else would we be doing

On this washout of a day?

Tattooing wrist, Sunday rainy gray


Fortitude and patience, creation and onlookers

Curiosities and artwork, WiFi connected appointment bookers

Raindrops and ink spots, a life choice with great magnitude

Onlookers and creation, patience and fortitude


Smiles and relief, independence and milestones

Surrounded by insects with gears and deformed bones

This curiosity shop slash tattoo parlor beguiles

Milestones and independence, relief and smiles.


(A Swap Quatrain Poem)

April 14

Abandoned Infrastructure


Old infrastructure crumbles

Bold paint adorns gray walls

Cold air moves as voices rumble

Untold artists, after dark, leave scrawls.


Adaptive reuse provides fun

Active legs will be aching next day

Live in the moment before there are none

Forgive freely and make time to play.


(A Lento Poem)