Poem By Wayne G. Palmer

An alabaster morning,
Shy eye coquettish o'er treetops tipped gold,
Painting the mind with your peerless panorama,
Flipping your coin high to radiant chance,
As we gaze from paper cages, fawning in the shadows,
Fidgeting old dreams buried deep in our pockets,
Wishing your fate to the face of our chalice,
Watching your palette, our hopes, become blue,
Wistfully yearning, enticed for another...
An alabaster morning...

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Pondering Price

Waterbug's sundance 'pon lily pad floor,
twirling like Merlin while gathering spores,
naive to advances, a little green frog,
guilefully leaping o'er rushes and logs.

Pesky Little Sins

In bibles tall like rubber balls in flight,
Where rules like jewels transfix our wandering eyes,
We lock away our disarray from sight,
Then drool like fools with sweaty palms and sighs. A stolen watch, a swollen crotch, what shame!