Her Tears Upon The Ground

She weeps her tears upon the ground
Sadness fills her soul
Puddles form from her tears
Lakes, rivers rise to overflow
She is in distress
What has happen to her world?
Chaos regins to the west
Caps of ice melt in the north and south of poles
The east in a mode of change
She struggles to make sense
Cries out to those few that listen
They take heed even through they’re few
But it’s not enough to stop what may come to pass
As she watches her world disappearing
Through her crying eyes

Dogs Can’t Write Poetry

Dogs can’t write poetry
For they have paws
With no way to grasp a pen.

When they speak words come out
As barks and woofs.

Dogs can’t write poetry
For they sleep so much
Throughout the day.

They are too busy with sleep, eating and play;
To stop and think of what to say.

Owners can write their dog’s poetry
For dogs can tell by their actions and habits.

Throu my dog can’t write poetry
She can do it through her action
And many quirky habits she possess.

5 Haikus of Philadelphia

No cellphones brought through
Mint doors to watch; take tour of
Money being made

One old single street
Still has cobble stones where you
Walk historic path

Behind glass; not touched
Has a large crack in its frame
From time long ago

Document signed
By men now famous in room–
Independence Hall

Walk streets at night, find
Historic ghosts prowling where
nation was founded

Monsters Under Bed

When I was a child there were monsters under the bed
Monsters lurked unseen waiting to be fed
I dare not place small feet down at night
For who knew what would be in their sight
Covers snug around me so I couldn’t see
What lurked below me
For a child terrified of the unseen
Hoping they wouldn’t invade my dreams
Now I’m grown but still there might be
Monsters lurking under my bed waiting for me