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A Year (for me, at least)

poetry

Three hundred and sixty-five days later
And still here.
Still going strong.
Better than ever.
With probably a thousand pieces
Of improbable prose behind us.
(Holy crap, that’s a lot!)
A troupe of awesome men
(and one women)
Putting the pedal to the metal
Or more like, pen to paper,
Or actually, fingers to keyboards
Churning out poem after poem
After poem after poem:
The good (a buttload)
The great (a few)
The bad (no one asked you anyway)
The ugly (that’s the way we like ‘em)
And as it’s been said before:
“Hemorrhaging brilliance daily.”
So though it’s needless to say,
But I’ll say it anyway:
It’s been an honor to share this
Pixilated plane of poetic interweb
Known on the streets as “the Sieve”
With you
Twisted,
Hilarious,
Ridiculous,
And ingenious,
Gents.
You guys (and gal) rock!

Rondeau

poetry

When eventually there is a time that lasts
A time in which there will be no past
And in this time we will see one another
Where all of us will be united as brothers
When we reach this place unsurpassed

In a time of paradise so eternally vast
There is no pain, it all will have passed
This place we will see, is unlike any other
When eventually there is a time that lasts

When we finally reach this place, alas
Joy will abound, unending it will amass
Long sought embraces will we discover
Into the arms of our fathers and mothers
Where there is no such thing as greener grass
When eventually there is a time that lasts