Thursday, April 25, 2019

April 25, 2019 National Poetry Writing Month

Florence

My heart beats faster when I’m near you.
My legs shake, my body tremors, I can barely walk
Dizzied by the surging wave of your beauty.
I struggle to breathe in your presence,
Feeling faint, my love for you distills.
The ecstasy of your smile disorients me.
Sublime sensations stir hallucinations
As time stands still and flies by.
Your silky hair is the envy of women everywhere.
You are my Uffizi, my Basilica,
You are my Parthenon, my Louvre.
I am your Ponte Vecchio, your David.

April 24, 2019 Naitonal Poetry Writing Month

Page 921

Could I write a Horatian Ode?
Perhaps with Horatio Alger effort,
Of honesty, hard work, and dedication.
A horde of writers, descending from Horeb
With handfuls of horehound might help.
The words are just beyond the horizon, for me.
Through hormic effort, with hormones balanced
I might gently sail through the Strait of Hormuz,
Around the Horn of Africa, playing my French horn,
While sounding the ship's horn at horned gazelles
Horning in on flocks of hornbills at a watering hole
Inundated by horned vipers.
Instead, however, I sit in Hornell
Watching a hornet buzz around my window sill.
No Horatian Ode today.