Tag: Sam Barbee

Region of the Black Rose Bodmin Moor − Cornwall My love, I must answer daybreak’s bleak chime, rise to defeat the rising clang’s rhymes of

Elegy for Mother Nature   I wait with a windchime, idle in wind: Tentacles hanging, each lifeline tangled As they shimmer, glimmer floating empty –

Soliloquy of Cemetery Trees Only when a grave fails to respond is a person truly dead.  Gloomy contentions, pass on like whispering ancestors did,