October 26 – November 1: Poetry from Joan McNerney and Bruce Heard

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Joan McNerney

Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Four Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Spectrum Publications have accepted her work.  She has four Best of the Net nominations.  Her latest title is The Muse in Miniature available on Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Joan McNerney and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Then

After twenty two
I swore to stay single.

I’d be a monkey’s aunt
before becoming a slave
to any man
giving up my name
losing my ambition
subordinate to HIM.

9 to 5
bad enough
forget 24/7!

Crazy lazy, crazy lazy.
No good renegade,
heretic, gypsy.
Too smart for
her own good.

But as luck had it
one guy fell head
over heels over me
and my defiant ways

Bruce Heard

Bruce Heard is a former student, seaman & radioman (US Coast Guard), recreational leader, surveyor, basketball coach, Athletic Director, public radio jazz and news radio announcer, radio and network engineer, and secondary social science school teacher who has been able to bring critical thinking skills into his current professional experience as information technology professional. Besides cycling, swimming, hiking and observing nature, Bruce’s hobbies include brewing beer, drawing, listening to jazz music, playing harmonic, reading, sipping coffee, wine tasting and writing poetry.

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Bruce Heard and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Delta River Breeze

Delta river breeze escapes from the meandering river banks
dancing across fields of wispy rice plants
stair stepping almond trees, blossoms trailing in its wake
sliding down roof tops, slipping thru an iron gate
funneled by ivy covered walls
strumming the wooden clapper of the hanging chimes

 

Mile 11

feet screaming into worn leather hiking boots
weary legs drag them thru the dusty trail
sweat burning eyes
keys jangling every step
parched lips craving cold beer
dreaming of a cool shower
stretches of solitude are broken up by mountain bikers
annoying bastards defiantly pedal hiking trails
like flies, they persist anyway