Author Archives: Ken Greenman

He is no mere thief, stealing for gain. He is the creator of grief, his mission, pain. His dark X across Monet’s lilly creates glee filled calamity. His razors red slash across Venus’ cheek ruins for no reason but his … Continue reading →

I heard the wild turkeys gobbling, deep in the woods. Couldn’t see them, but heard them fine as their conversations grew articulate and refined. I sat still, waiting for their arrival, hearing them coming closer, closer They never appeared. Instead … Continue reading →

I’d rather spoon with Nancy than run marathons like I used to, or write a poem like I’m doing now, but, Nancy’s working on her business news. To feel hers against mine,the fine, warm pressure, beginnings of what there are … Continue reading →

A sapling springs from rotting spruce stump, resurrected from demise to rise into sunshine. Is there an atom or two left of the old spruce aware of its old self while conscious of its new beginning? I stand on stone, … Continue reading →

The next time this flat lander drives north to the Kingdom, before I die and definitely before you do, I would appreciate the pleasure of some friendly conversation with you, if only to thank you for fine hours I have … Continue reading →

A white wonderland out there this morning, heavy weight of snow bends branches low. But Nature gives fair warning to all. “It is still Fall.” She whispers through the mist, “Beware! There will be no solace after solstice. Yes, My … Continue reading →

The old oak finally fell. He grew just inside the wood line so he hurt nothing, no ones deck or porch, no telephone wires, no chipped stone chimney. He just gave up and came down. Only a few accommodating neighbors … Continue reading →

I miss Autumn, when hues lit my life, scarlets, yellows, russets in a golden light. But now my beard is white. My hair, what’s left, is gray. Snow swirls along my way. A ghost blanketing the ground under a pale … Continue reading →

And if, perchance… then the only boon I shall beg the clouds, as uneven trade for what little good I’ve done: that you be let to wait for me but a brief moment, so we, together, may journey past the … Continue reading →

If I should, perforce, proceed you, towards the great woods, I shall, if They allow, await you. I shall sit on the bench beneath the grand old maple sentinel in the meadow, guard of the darkening path into the trees. … Continue reading →