September 28, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

lehmannsound/pexels photo



Rick Davis







telling your story.






but I am most alive

when creating


and helping another.





september morning



light sprinkles

your silvery hair


dissolving mild

cloud fractals.


avocado trees.

my mind is weed-filled


and wild.

the sun is gold


as a tooth.

groggy, i walk gently


and touch you.

you unseal my lips.





my idealism



my idealism is like

bare feet in summer grass


and blossoms

that drift like stars


resisting water-hazards

of apathy.


my idealism

is like city lights


that speckle wet streets

with vibrant paint.


stuck in right-wing mud

my nights grow


sleeplessly long,

but with loving-kindness


moonlight seeps

through dancing clouds.





neighborhood walk



the air is alive.

morning is a perfect


drop of gold honey.

oaks branch


like nerve endings.

i pray Kaddish


to mortality

and disappear


into a loving photo,

admiring the


lipstick-red hibiscus.

my dreams have wings.







Rick Davis

Rick (Richard) Davis is married and lives in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago with his wife. He graduated from Northeastern Illinois University, and has completed several graduate programs. He has published over 600 poems.

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