The idea is taken from the Greek legend of Procrustes who measured and fitted his deceived victims on his iron bed (actually two). 

Lacking material possessions, all I have are words. 

The evolution of language into the art of poetry. 

I used this photo I took to illustrate my favorite Robert Frost poem, "My November Guest". 

First love is in many ways the loss of innocence. 

While timing the afternoon tea with an hourglass, the idea for the poem came to me. 

When the world becomes overwhelming, I seek solace and sanctuary in poetry. 

If you find someone special to love, then consider yourself a very lucky person who has beat the odds and won. 

A healthy dose of poetry for what ails us. 

I was wondering what kind of winter we are going to have this year when the line "Thoughts but cannot turn to mortality and death" popped into my head and grew into this poem. 

The third in a series: the poet as potter. 

The second poem in the series: the poet as woodworker. 

Amber, like words, polished and in the proper setting can be a thing of beauty. 

Maple syrup making as a metaphor for writing poetry. I toyed with the idea of taking my own bucket and somehow suspending it from a tree that resemble a maple (not indigenous to the area), but ended up using this public domain photo taken by Oven Fre... 

I always wanted to use this photo somehow, so when the chirping of a cricket in the evening led to this poem, I combined the two together.