Wanda Thibodeaux

My name is Wanda Thibodeaux and I am the owner of this site. I am happy to welcome those of you who love poetry as I do. This site is for the serious at heart poetry writers.

Green Apple Caper

“Psss’t! Come see at the window. Make it quick! We’ve raided the orchard that Mr. Clark keeps. Take all of the apples tied up in this shirt and hide them in your room ‘case ours is searched.” “We’ve eaten ‘most…

Midnight Haiku

Midnight Haiku

man in the moon sings to the midnight sky stars giggle

Revelation

Revelation

A day once came that frightened me For on that day I could not see And knowing that I was not blind I started searching for the key To open up the inner eye There, God’s love did enthrall And…

Parable of the Leaves

Parable of the Leaves

Trees had lost their summer dress, stood bare… like stark patterns stenciled on the sky. Only a lone and wispy leaf drifted playfully against her cheek. Fall had arrived… in fragrant splendor and all the leaves were brown. At last…

Colors of Autumn - Haiku

Colors of Autumn – Haiku

autumn glows nights harvest moon shines saffron

Quiet Acquaintance

Quiet Acquaintance

I’ve never lain upon white satin liners Nor been encased in dark mahogany Nor have I worn a shroud of uncrisp linen Perfumed by final flowers I won’t see I’ve never heard the sound of endless silence Nor been imprisoned…

Sing Me Again

Sing Me Again

“Will you sing my song, you know the one that’s only about me?” Then we’d climb into the Maxima for Saturday’s shopping spree. Perched upon the arm rest illegal as could be, she’d tuck a leg on either side and…

HEAR US STAND!

HEAR US STAND!

Hear the morning sunrise breaking Hear the early breezes sigh Hear the deadly planes approaching Hear the twinkling of an eye Hear the towers crack and crumble Hear the apocalyptic sound Hear the people run in terror Hear the terror…

D. C. Summer of ’98

They wore Summer home like a flag, new generation patriots baptized in the dust of D.C. Shirt-tailed by Lincoln’s ghost, their covert glances behind expected sudden resurrection from a too short bed. A story not allowed to die. Seven years…

Little Deer Running

Little Deer Running

Her trail of tears ran deep It seemed always the soul knew thirst Moccasins left driven prints As freedom fell behind Pride rode a phantom horse Upon a land no longer theirs It was the Moon of Moving Shadows Riders…