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moving forward

 small gains in each day's measure 
are small but significant treasure,
but enduring loss
comes with less cost
as I weather
failure and shame.
if I refuse the tether
of other's guilt,
I hold the integrity of my name.
there is no blame
in any event
it's simply a matter of personal intent.


Now, there's a feat-
pith and marrow
from the callow-
the ironic becomes sardonic
that verbal flatulence
might make sense!

blog frog

 I blog, a frog
From my edge of the pond.
There's no one around-
scarcely a sound,
But my deep throated bellow.
I, a solitary, not lonely, fellow
Tweet my tune-
a toadish croon- 
Without concern for being heard
(-never been a member of the herd-).
Does it make sense
To blurt a song intense
That none will acknowledge 
In froggish college?
There's an incandescent moon
That is my lune.
She will hear
though nobody's here.

blot jot

What's in a word
Written, random?
But if one thinks a moment,
Ideas more potent
Might arise-
A pleasant surprise!
And all just for having thought
What might be wrought.
Not a bad way to turn a phrase,
As one passes the days!


 Each day's progress
Is measured less
By what we do
Than seeing things through.
The strength to stay the course
Through all the worst,
Is the measure of a life's quality.
This simple banality
Defies individual frailty 
And renders heroic 
Seemingly trivial work.


What's in a friend?
Can regret mend
the disrespect
offered so easily in retrospect?
Not so.
Truth is easily seen
in barbed remarks
which make it plain
that I am extraneous,
an outsider, heinous.


As long as I am not too serious
it should not  be seen as too egregious 
to jot
in this spot
my personal musings
as I rummage, perusing
places in my mind
where I may find
something I might dare
to share....