The Canyon’s Majesty The canyon calls! Its layers stee… In red and ochre hues the rocks ar… Where rivers shape the cliffs, as… While eagles soar through calm unb…

An Ode to the Enchilada– Just… At last, it’s Wednesday; I’m exci… I woke up early, a smile on my fac… Shaved, brushed and showered, all… Then coffee! Breakfast? Haven’t d…

Sky’s the palest of blue As the morning sun climbs Like old faded denims Washed a hundred times The sun peeks playfully

how does one describe a sunset, and craft into words the palette o… the interplay of the clouds, the s… the distant hills, the scent of fl… how the sun rays reflect on puffs…

Growing old too tough for the youn… Their childish minds will be hamst… But we old fogies can ace it With determination and grit Body aches and pain each morning

A Tribute to Today... It’s the first day of April And he’s wary and watchful He’s on his toes and careful Not wanting to be made a fool

Love’s no golden dream, soft and sweet as poets claim— it demands a price, woven deep in sacrifice, breaking hearts with loaded dice

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.” –Stanley Horowitz

Ear to the ground; forefinger in t… Wide eyes scanning the heavens for… Fearful and troubled; feeling much… Yet hopeful, in the end stars will… We seek guidance, of our future un…

Faraway long, long ago Lived an old, grizzled wizard With long beard as white as snow But the eyes of a lizard He walks with a long-gnarled staff

From deep sleep, slowly, he awaken… Eyes half-opened skyward obsidian… Semi-conscious he spoke but not a… Vocal cords sadly muffled as he cr… Glancing left, he sees southern li…

The AI Poet Torrent of words; a swift flowing… Ideas and vignettes pour out gushi… Spilling into a blank sheet of pap… Continuous relentless unceasing

A summer day; pleasant morning at… The tide was out for miles, the oc… He built what only his imagination… A grandiose castle! But sadly, th… He watched as wave after wave cras…

The golden eye peeked from the wes… And glowered as streaks of cirrus… The clouds blushed, like purple da… And tangerine blossoms in the crim… Higher up, clouds are many shades…

Beneath the oak, within its coolin… Upon a bench of wood so roughly ma… They sat in silence, hands entwine… A sorrow deep was present in their… All through high school, this was…