POETRY, GHOSTS, AND VAMPIRES He told me that he loved The warm breeze on his face The smell of pine trees And water on granite
Category: Poetry
Headless (A kind of, sort of, Halloween poem about relationships)
Headless He stood in front of me his neck a stump without a head. In his hand was a note on expensive stationary scrawled in
The Eagle Cried
I’m honored to share a poem from my friend, Northern California writer, and Vietnam Vet, Richard Turton. The Eagle Cried The acrid smell of cordite
A Faint Smile
He turned to her A faint smile With depth And sharpness Yet when he turned It was as if He was only An image In
A need you dare not admit.
A need you dare not admit. Poetry on a Vampire Mom blog? Why? I’ll tell you. People won’t admit they read poetry and are moved
Poetry, Ghosts, and Vampires
He told me that he loved The warm breeze on his face The smell of pine trees And water on granite The sounds of nothing
Vampire Maman 