Monday, June 1, 2015


               Memories, dreams, reflections are the stuff
               From which my penny poems are made each day
               And typically a small prompt is enough
               To set each one galumphing on its way.

               Today it’s my old college memory
               Of “Penny Poems” sold at the bookstore:
               “Poems, Penny Each” read the marquee
               Showing a drummer from a marching corps.

               I wasn’t writing any poems then
               Though as an English major reading them
               And stashing those experiences for when
               The motive came to try to carve a gem.

                    My verses, though, won’t cost you anything:
                    Just sit and read—pretend you hear me sing.