The Verbal Herbal We grow what we can grow from whatever the soil gives. Such is life, don't cha know? The chaff inert...the germ re-lives. 1/3

The Wide Mouth Ball Were Christ to revive in the here and now what chalice would he use at final sup? What lid flipping grail for canning chow might he choose as his humble drinking cup? 1/3

Bonne Journée A strong sun beats through the eastern windows as Riviera instrumentals play... a soundtrack from YouTube for all of those who'd have their tranquility last all day... 1/3

Woolgathering Some see no refuge in the mirror nor an ego on a kaiju rampage since the mind's eye need be oodles clearer than what's arrested at the anal stage... 1/3

Acclimatized The wind is soft upon the chimes today from medley skies of gray and white and blue in sunlight slowly beating puffs away all for songbird, leaf, and blossom anew... 1/3

The Connoisseur's Burden We know making the world beautiful is the realm of the artist and poet and progressive free thinkers dutiful among the rucks who just damn well know it... 1/3

Hibernian Days The green and the gold forever! Forever and a day! To gild euphoric endeavor... and chase my cares away! 1/4

Repurposed Copium There are those who would burn the whole world rather than see it for what it could be, a garden park where love is unfurled from the compost of history: 1/3

Verdancy We retrain the brain in the April rain as inspiration oft needs more than dew like apple blossoms in the fruit domain or each and every clover patch anew... 1/3

The Galloping Gourmet An April air cries out for lentil soup as if Bernie Sanders were somewhere near and so ingredients go alley-oop in the kitchen of a sonneteer... 1/3

Lightning Lass Zap went the kiss as she was getting dressed. High voltage; never mind the shower damp or the dew of an April morning blessed by micro thunder lip peck milliamp... 1/3

Chansons d'Amour Time itself tells us to be progressive and not to mire our hope in the past as the past among the headstones may last just to show itself as unexpressive... 1/3

Favorite Tree Under the Mirabelle milady paints with her old easel fully deployed and in that scene, she ardently aquaints prescience with a palette overjoyed... 1/3

Cynthiana I dig the astronauts. I really do. And hope to once more see them on the moon and all sequent can-do-know-how...boon derived from what's materially true... 1/4

Integrity Orion Far flinging past the moon today, crewed by four intrepid humans, calibrated for the lens play at multivariate lumens... 1/3

Trans Lunar Days I suppose Easter needs verse of her own but I will give April her share instead to further praise each fecund flower bed further rewarding us with blooms a-blown... 1/3

Café Buzz Rosemary in ostentation of pale purple all abloom with fullest honeybee ration taken to...her majesty's room; the powerhouse and honey hub of pollination empire... like an aerodrome country club, sustainable by the shire.

The Green Thumb Windows up for an April breeze and watching the wife in the sun potting and planting for the bees and all the herbs new growth has spun like mustard greens that heat the lunch with diverse sandwiches she makes where flavor packs a vernal punch... as fresh as milady's double takes!

Scrat The maple leaves are halfway out to greet the partly cloudy sky and seem to have some flavor clout for morning squirrels passing by hoping for the charity nut tossed out upon the dewy yard. A marvel for the critter gut... highly held in rodent regard.

I just asked my 58-year-old artist wife..."will you settle on a medium before you hit 60?" Oh, how she laughed and laughed.

Xenogamy The microcosm garden plot welcomes the eager April air and all the life the raindrops brought betwixt blue sky and solar share shone to warm each loaming patch dug bare to cultivate anew a breeze blown May fresh floral batch... for mass pollination ado.

April Folly Sprung on equinoctial heels verse is once more in high demand in that court of yard appeals... with the weather in full command... and be she wet, dry, hot, or cold, we see the garden scene explode just as the almanacs foretold... for a fecund brainwave motherlode.

Twinkle Riot I beheld her after dinner quarter sprung unto meridian height... vertex crowned as lunar beam exporter when nightfall need be extra bright... 1/3

Salient Sapiens Here on the atom bomb planet, and thermobaric too, or phosphorus on flesh to fan it... we make old hell anew. How great can a sapience be when what it makes will kill all wholesome hope for liberty... by way of..."beautiful bill" ?

Would any experienced poetry editors like to recommend their favorite word processing programs for poetry? As usual, inexpensive is preferred. Go ahead and DM your selections and rationale.

Nestlé They scheme for free water and air, as something to be sold, like a trinket beyond compare in market hell foretold. Next, they'll offer us blood by brand, in dystopian trade, ever the action they have planned... as theft...by swap portrayed.

Hi! I don't think Toho has a bsky so I'll post it - my first commissioned work for all the official Godzilla channels and I handmade everything that isn't a toy. Enjoy xo

Mirabelle Blooms March drills a proper solar beam, after a week of rain, and cloud scatter in onshore scheme to vex the weathervane. 1/3

Mister Ed Each ennead muse took a whisper course from the dream catching Kootenay shaman who knew so well how to speak to a horse as to make a talking horse quite common. 1/3

Heavens to Murgatroyd Old memories into dreams will merge leaving us only with myth and shadow to commemorate prehistoric urge needling our id from eons ago... 1/3

Shahran It's make or break for Planet Earth, though many just don't care, trapped within our orbital berth and urgent shell of air. 1/3

Peak Stupid is Crude One fifth snarled at The Strait of Hormuz the oil supply begins with a jam and makes a commodity ill to use for all except a perpetual scam... 1/3

Ogham A Celtic tune once rang the bell that often chimes my brain, with no lyrics for me to spell or otherwise attain. 1/4

Zodiacal Sight There's moonbeam static when I close my eyes, the cosmic sparkle of a living gold candle colored like a French plate O fries or background radiation uncontrolled... 1/3

The Harp's Accord Right after the lively Ides of March is Saint Patrick's exalted day of drink where corny beef pairs well with heaps O starch until the vomit plugs the kitchen sink. 1/3

February The squirrel, junco, and scrubby jay, play through the drowsy tree as immune to a rainy day as any beast could be. But indoors I read a book staying warm and dry and fed to sometimes give outdoors a look to see if clouds have dried and fled.

Yup it is, you can use a site like www.dcode.fr/ogham-alphabet to transliterate, scroll down about half way, find the "encode" box and tick "Unicode" and it'll generate a character string you can copy and paste

Last One in The House The nut dry lime looked not to make a juice or serve as grist for rhyme... but truth it was I made a truce when halves against the press I pressed to harvest drops and scanty pulp with which that rind was blessed... for water in a pint to gulp.

The Clodpate Administration... Cantilevered into prone blovia-tio by gluteal grotesquery counterweight... Dear Leader horns in like Horatio in all the press pool-age of state. 1/3

Ode to a Valentine Saint Lady love has been good to me in a death camp world... an uphill skate, assuredly, from a bloom unfurled. 1/4

Weltanschauung MAGA worships the DOUBLE CROSS much as the Nazis do where their prize is everyone's loss in the red and the white and the blue. And it's no damn good for any flag or the people represented whose price is woe on every tag subject to notions demented.

Epithalamion Thusly hallowed were our lives, in sublimity betimes, as husbands should with wives... to fix in keepsake rhymes! 3/3

Epithalamion So forthcoming was our troth and so exigent the plight... I invaded like an Ostrogoth as hard as you were tight. 2/3

Epithalamion I dreamt we were in honeymoon love impassioned through and through my whole self ready above an awfully receptive you. 1/3

Apollo Verdigris I dreamt we were young and spry, my wife and I in birthday suits, messaging by contentment sigh with Cupid's dart in fond cahoots... and then it was that I awoke back into my malady... where Cupid's bow is always broke by darts nocked with infirmity.