The Solitary Walker

Happy World Poetry Day, fellow readers / writers! This is the first I’ve heard of it, but that’s fine because I’m always up for celebrating poetry. The poem I have today is for FOWC: Solitary and was also inspired by MLMM’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Lost. Linked with PSU’s Writers’ Pantry (which is where I learned about today’s special celebration 🙂 ).


The solitary walker,
Whether she is noticing
Flowers on the edges of concrete,
Or is fully immersed
In grass or tall trees,
Loves to get lost
Along those winding pathways,
Loves those many moments
Multiple yet precious,
When God smiles through
Nature, throughout creation,
When she again realizes
She is not solitary.

photo by Walter Sturn, on Unsplash

Ghazal: Folly

After posting the paint-chip ghazal earlier today, I remembered this one, written about a month ago, on January 16, 2021.

clear wine glass on black table
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Forgive my folly, veritable wells of it!
Let it be written down, say not farewell to it!

Before its end, all pens would use their ink;
Were I given all time, I could not tell of it.

See how the heart makes passion come in waves —
Behold the ocean deep, the ebb and swell of it!

Even if you are not my Beatrice,
Could you not be my Virgil for the hell of it?

Now all that’s left are roses pressed in books:
One such sweet scent — this writer brings to life the smell of it.

Sonnet: Dove of Peace

In this post from last week, I shared a picture and 2 poems inspired by it, wondering if I would start a series by reusing some of the lines to write different forms of poetry. Well, here is the next installment of the series: a Shakespearean sonnet (hoping to try a Petrarchian sonnet soon)! Shared with the Writers’ Pantry at Poets and Storytellers United.


The dove of peace brings healing in its wings,
The shining sun comes not so far behind –
A confluence of pinkish hues it beings,
The easier some happiness to find.
The dove of peace reveals itself to men
Although it often seems to’ve been delayed:
It can be shy, and finds its welcome when
True prayers of trust, like little stars arrayed,
Light up the people’s dark thoughts’ sky. Those stars
Provide much comfort when they’re born and rise,
Against despair and woeful words which mar –
With peace past understanding as the prize.
Thenceforth can many faith-filled flowers grow,
No matter which direction the winds blow.

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