Your Sunday Sonnet. April 12, 2020
Spring is the season of rebirth. What shall you plant? What must be cleared? What works? What doesn’t? Perhaps every day should…
Read More →Spring is the season of rebirth. What shall you plant? What must be cleared? What works? What doesn’t? Perhaps every day should…
Read More →You cannot sum up a life inside a hand-turned urn. His ashes were delivered, ‘twas an urn. Poplar; turned by hand, smooth…
Read More →Have you ever dreamt that a loved who has passed is alive? I’m sure we all have.
Read More →It is a glorious Sunday morning in SE Michigan. I wrote this about 20 minutes ago. Perfect for this week’s Sunday Sonnet.…
Read More →DStan58 here. When my Father died just over a year ago, I started writing poetry. Sonnets, to be exact. The sonnet’s strict…
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