Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

but what does it mean

21 July 2013


but what does it mean?



Witty, gritty, raw, and real,

poetry should make me feel,



wordy, nerdy, has its place,

sometimes leather, sometimes lace.



Nudely, rudely, I don’t care,

something just has to be there.



The point is, that when it’s true,

poetry should speak to you.

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

teeter totter

21 July 2013


teeter totter





know, it’s

nothing new,

we all have them,

good days and bad days.

Today’s a little left

of center, and not quite right,

but I’ve had worse, I won’t complain.

these ups and downs should balance out, when

Life’s just an endless teeter totter game.

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment


20 July 2013



sometimes fondly, but

we’d like to forget sometimes

or wish to go back.

It can be remembered, but

never changed, nor returned to.

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment


20 July 2013



cantelope and white,

sweet, unmistakable scent

I recognize you

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment


20 July 2013



colors against night

with thunderous murmurings

glory fades quickly

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

when we remember

20 July 2013

when we remember


I miss the days of rising with the sun,

or more likely, before the day’s begun

to venture forth, explore the hills and woods,

and spend the day in Nature when I could,


Where every living thing was worth my time,

and every conquered rise was worth the climb,

no destination, just out to explore,

to get away, commune, and breathe once more.


Birds, fox and squirrel, deer, and sometimes bear,

were usually indifferent to me there,

turkey, pheasant, quail, often startled me,

as they interrupted my reverie.


The beaver pond that kept me entertained,

thicker pines that sheltered me if it rained,

flora which challenged me to guess their names,

a timeless joy for which I’m unashamed.


I lost something, those days are done for me,

but I have a lifetime of memories,

I miss it, yes, but remembering still

renews my spirit, my soul is refilled.

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment


20 July 2013




her lipstick was red,

the kind of red that would

make a bull charge from

an acre away,

the kind of lipstick that

made Moses and the burning bush

seem like a dim nightlight,

and her lips,

her lips were full, the kind

of lips that never needed

to say a word,

electric lips that almost made you

want to go to Sunday school,

even though deep down inside

you knew somehow, they

only spoke dirty lies, as if

that really mattered.

Her compulsion was chronic,

to say the words, to play

the games, to inspire every

possible fantasy …

She was a bomb,

always ticking down

to an unfulfilled detonation.

She was an oasis, yes, for a

desert-weary, dying of thirst

lonely nomad, but what is worse,

is she was cold, cruel,

forever out of reach, and

the kind of woman who would not

even validate your parking

when she spurned your sincerest

words and lustful intentions

with a playful laugh,

a devilish smile,

and that final teasing send off

as she blew you a kiss

from those unforgettable

lips and sauntered away …

20 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment