Au contraire, Allan,"slayed" is a past tense for "slay." See website.
Of course, we're familiar with
St George Slaying the Dragon by Raphael.
Zzzzzzz.
He wrote a wonderful murder-mystery short story, "The Horse Trader." It took place in 1921 in the old Soviet Union.
The flag then.... and now... read the interesting history here.
He wrote a wonderful poem as a tribute to a suicide victim who died in the laundry room of The Moreland House in Hatboro. The janitor found him.
His poem began with a quote from a James Agee poem "Lullabye"
"And everywhere good men contrive..."
"Soon the gossip will subside," he wrote about Richard Dealagol, 1959-2015.
Keith wrote some haikus about his soul mate he met in Humboldt County, California. Good learning experience as they worked together cleaning up the land, Keith and his once-upon-a-time Soul Mate.
His poem "Blocked" was about the dreaded "writer's block."
Her poem again was Slayed by the Tongue. She said our love and support definitely helps her heal.
The photo I took of Donna Krause was as blurry as driving through a snow storm.
Her poem "Love in my Pocket" was a gem.
It now has 76 views. Some - excuse me, I'm gonna curse - friggin a-hole - had the nerve to give it a thumbs down.
Show yourself, you frigging coward!!!
Carly will figure out how to post her poem as a comment.
She and husband Charlie are moving April 18-19 to become night managers of Gloria Dei off Davisville Road.
In "The Night Visitor," "Mary" and her husband "Dennis" forgot to lock their door.
Sure enough an intruder entered.
Mary grabbed her billy club at the side of the bed and threatened him with it.
Smelling of alcohol, he apologized and left their house.
Mary ran down and locked the door!
Later on, she called the police. They knew of the man. He was looking for Ashley, he had told Mary and Dennis.
He cocked his head and looked up at her.
Keith offered a prayer for all of us.... a healing prayer, as well as saluting our amazing creativity.
Beatriz, shown in a previous photo, braved the rigors of her chemo that make her exhausted. Keith kindly escorted her out to her car. Floyd wrote his very first poem! Everyone loved it. It had many wonderful lines and the rhythm was like "rap."Titled "Delivered Comfort Without the Tip - an Altered Double Sonnet" some lines included
- Citus squeeze breezes, seeds,kernels, and glue cucumbers
polished enamel panels, bannisters, and wedged corner numbers
- four fifths ifs - 80% inverse, upside down
Go, Floyd, go!!!
On FB, I learned that MacKenzie, the dog I write about below, had actually died 6 months ago.
MacKenzie’s Fine Day
They’re
feting Luke on his
ninth
birthday, shiny
cars
accumulate on the
street,
big brother holds
my
leash. I bark!
Woof!
Woof! He drops
leash
and I dash down
the
street.
MacKenzie!
he shouts
in
his panicky voice.
MacKenzie, come
home,
my dad will ground
me
and I won’t get to
eat
any cake.
I
am free!
Free
as the hawks
who
soar above
catching
blue jays
in
a single swoop.
I
watched many a
time
from our
back
yard patio
smelling
the
barbeque.
Where
am I going?
I don’t quite know.
I don’t quite know.
My
leash drags
behind
me, like
the
small red wagon
the
kids ride
in.
I stayed home,
tail wagging,
watching.
A
free man, I pee
wherever I please.
Loud
rock music
assaults
my ears
as
a blue Honda
drives
by
What’s
that heavenly
smell?
My leash
goes
faster across
the
sidewalk as I
race
toward the smell.
She’s
peeking out
behind
a yellow forsythia bush,
a
small black dog,
tiny
as I, with
smiling
lips and
big
black eyes.
My
mouth begins
to
drool and I
jump
like a bareback rider
across
her fuzzy black back
our
howls of joy can be
heard
all across Cowbell
Road.
Sure enough,
here
he comes, yelling
and
screaming,
Bad
Dog! Bad Dog!
My
lady and I rub
foreheads
as I’m
led
away
a
slave bound
in chains. 
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