Here’s a poem I wrote December 31, 2010, but never posted on this blog until now.

With its blurry, white ball of an overcast sun,
glowing over the nippy air,
and trees clinging to leaves of crumpled-up brown,
amid ones still flaming with color,
which brighten the town–
nature is staging a pretty good show
of a very late day in the year.

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A BITE OF GRATITUDE (re-chewed) A rewrite of a 2011 Quick Read poem

Dear Readers,
Here’s a simple little poem of mine from 2011, which I’ve re-worked. I think it deserves to be called new and improved.

Thank you for your interest and attention to my work, and have a happy day!


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Give yourself
all the choices in the world. . .

or at least,
all the choices that you have,

and as often as you can,
decide for those
that free your heart to sing. . .

because, from there,
you’re bound
to feel
all right,
right to the core. . .

and bound
some grace
from way up yonder
quite widely
in the world to bring.

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EASY! EASY! that’s what does it!

Easy, easy!
That’s what does it!

Even though
an iron grip,
a gripping ire
may seem efficiently
to grab our bull
square by its horns
and that that
would be the ticket–

And driven fear,
+++++or the mode of do-or-die,
+++++should you from dueling
+++++seek an alibi,
might be the spur
that pricks you on
from foes
or raging beasts
to fly. . .

And heated sweat
might be deemed,
when really going at it
or "relaxing"
in a room of steam,
to be a sweeter salve
than the act
of tasting, salivating,
and then swallowing
the best
of tantalizing
rich sweet cream,

Or that bawling,
fiercely tearing eyes
could be the best
to mend the heart
and let the sadness flow
and finally pass,

But if the storm
too largely gets its sway,
it could be true
the post-storm day
may feel
less clean
and more storm-torn. . .

So maybe
it's best to keep in mind
we came here as a baby,
and understand,
through every storm
and beat of heat on desert sand,
we must gently, firmly
all our needs and dreams,
as best we might be able,
so we avert
a cracked hull breach,
and remain whole,

so we, in full,
will our higher level reach,
and, from there,
continue on
so new and fresh
as if we just
had been

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EDGES EDITED (a revised version of “Edges Stitched and Crossed,” 2010

Welcome to my new readers and followers.

And a big thank you to all my readers, including some of you who are super-dedicated ones. I really appreciate your reading, Liking, and commenting on The Danforth Anchor.

You are part of the inspiration that has me narrowing in on 900 posts in just over 4 years.

The newest work of mine is a revised version of an older poem of mine you can find here:


Have a great day!

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If what you have
or what you do
doesn’t seem to count
for you,

maybe it’s time
you spent
a sec or two
to count
how you are blessed,

and how much
of late
and over all the time
that spans your age
you really have progressed. . .

For if you omit
to count
all that,

you’ve overlooked
the fount
that has the power
to touch you,

and help you feel
all that you get
and truly have to keep
from any source
while you wake
and while you sleep,

and thereby know
to what incredible degree
you’re truly blessed.

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Be straight
with them,
whosoe’er they are,
about just who
and how
you are.
this little itty bitty stategem,
though it may seem hum-drum,
may take you far. . .
even if you haven’t
got a car.

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