Poem 6
Hummingbird ‘prisoned
Frantic, fatigued sipped nectar
From our hands to fly.
Lying in our palm
Having no choice but to trust
Gaped its beak for strength.
Only once in a
Lifetime could such as we be
Blessed by such a bird.
About Me
- The Poet or Not
- Writing poetry is a way for me to express both my joy and my pain. Love it or hate it, you will get a fairly good dose of it here on my new blog, unless I find that posting it here sacrifices my first publisher’s rights. That would be a source of vexation. I am a true bibliophile with a nice personal library. If I like a book, I must own it. The only things I truly don’t like to read are romance novels. Otherwise, I read authors such as Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Lee Child, James Grisham, Patricia Caldwell plus many, many more. Janet Evanovich makes me howl. My taste is truly eclectic. The night seems to have more room for me so I generally go to bed when the rest of the world might be waking up at 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. That is when I read for hours. My service/working dog awakens me everyday at the crack of noon. This is fine; he does not buzz, rattle or shriek into my ear from some mechanical apparatus; he awakens me quite gently with either a few little whimpers, a soft lick of the tongue or, when desperate, a quiet little wolf. Character limit says you have suffered enough.
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