The Walking Wounded
Michael Gurley Through every storm, we stand tall, Though winds may rage, we won't fall. For in the tempest, hope shall amass,…
AI
Shiloh… We’ll Miss You.
In Loving Memory of Shiloh: Today, we gather not to mourn the passing of just any dog but to celebrate…
Words We Don’t Say
I asked AI about the Words we should never use. It replied in poetry form. I’ve cleaned it up a…
Don’t Waste Your Sunday
A little bit of poetry from AI and updated by me: On Sunday morn, when church bells chime,Calling faithful to…
To Be Young (-er) Again
Oh, to be young again, With the knowledge of where I'm headed, The changes I would make along the way…
How You Handle Life
How You Handle Life There's a certain poetry in defying expectations, in rising from the ashes when others expect me…
Sunday Ends…
As Sunday wanes, the evening falls,A gentle hush as darkness calls.The fading light, a soft caress,Bids farewell to the day’s…
How Much Do You Weigh???
Each step a struggle, every breath, A journey through the vale of death. The weight it presses never wanes, Like…
What Are My Odds?
What Are My Odds? Improve your success by being prepared. If depending on luck, you must understand, the odds are…
A Lazy Approach
This morning, I am tempted to let AI think for me. I could throw it a word, provide some instructions,…