Thursday, June 30, 2011

In Thirty Years

In thirty years

Who will you be?

As youth disappears

Across time’s sea

Will you look back

With tender gaze

Across the track

Of your life’s maze

And in the pathways

That you trod

Will you see the face

Of God?

If you should think then

Of father or mother

What memory

Will out-shine all others?

What will be

Your dearest thought?

Will others see

The things we taught?

In thirty years

Who will you be?

Will God above

Be a reality?

Will He be the light

Upon your path

Your strength to fight

The fiends of wrath?

Will His Word whisper

To you in your fears

Will He be your Master

As days become years

Because as a child

Your parents sought

Upon their knees

The things they taught

And will the Way

Be clearer somehow

Because of what

You’re learning now?

In thirty years

Will you be

The things you learned

When you were wee?



Come away my love, and let’s be silent for awhile
The night is falling from above in sultry summer style
The brooding storm is hovering above the rolling deep
And sullen clouds are covering the floor where angels weep

Come my love, the storm may vent its fury on the plain
But with you I am content, oh darling, let it rain
No one else will ever know you quite the way I do
Darling, will you let me show you how much I love you?

Come my love and let the shadows steal the dying day
Let torrents wash the meadows, let the hours tick away
Darling,hold me nearer, let the storm its passions thrust
Is there anything that’s dearer than the arms of one you trust?

Come away, my love, and let the tempest seek its thrill
As it passes then how calm the night will be, and still
Let's wrap the night around us, bold and unpretentiously
While the raging winds surround us, love falls softly, silently


In Color

God loves us in color…
Blue skies
White cloud
Yellow sunshine
Laughing loud
Red strawberries
Purple bloom
Green carpeting
Summer’s room
Orange sunset
Silver mist
Golden moments

I looked around me while picking straw-berries today…
And thanked God for loving us in color!


In the fragment of a whisper
And the bending of a sigh
In the anguish of a murmur
And the answer in your eye

You dismantle all my armor
Soothe life’s calluses away
By the pining of an arbor
‘neath a midnight soft and gray

As the pain of hoarded pleasure
Melts into your reckless gaze
Into pools of endless azure
I relinquish common ways

I care not for fields of fortune
Life has purer charms than this
I have touched them for a moment
In the shadow of your kiss

In the fragment of a whisper
And the candor of a sigh
I relinquish oceans longed for
I have traveled them tonight


Wednesday, June 29, 2011

June Day

It’s the kind of day for me
Where conflicting desires urge
Two kinds of responsibility
…to labor or to splurge?

The gray eye of a moody sky
Smolders in the distance
Cloudy June day lullaby
Weakening my resistance

It’s the kind of day for me
Where duty seems too common
For through my window I can see
A rare June day in blossom

The wind demands a little dance
Its blue chill stirs the wanting
Of more than just a wistful glance
Upon a June day taunting

It’s the kind of day for me
Divided by desire
Wise responsibility
Or June days verdant choir

If you were here
We’d reach and brush aside our endless duties
Exchanging them for freedom’s ride and summer’s haunting beauties
We would do the little things we dream about while working
And never dwell upon the little chores we might be shirking

If you were here
We’d talk and never mind the clock or hours
There’s much to do and say without mere words restrictive powers
And we would follow every path of freedom’s wanderlust
While meadowsweet and daisies laugh and daylight sweeps the dust

If you were here
We would forget to watch the hours divide
Desire into segments; lest our freedom might subside
Into the darkening silence; into a day, a year
Darling, would it make a difference, oh, if you were here?


If You Were Here

If you were here
We’d reach and brush aside our endless duties
Exchanging them for freedom’s ride and summer’s haunting beauties
We would do those other things we dream about while working
And never dwell upon the little chores we might be shirking

If you were here
We’d talk and never mind the clock or hours
There’s much to do and say without mere words restrictive powers
And we would follow every path of freedom’s wanderlust
While meadow-sweet and daisies laugh and daylight sweeps the dust

If you were here
We would forget to watch the hours divide
Desire into segments; lest our freedom might subside
Into the darkening silence; into a day, a year
Darling, would it make a difference, oh, if you were here?


Tuesday, June 28, 2011

In the Loving of June

The wind in the willow has always been
One of her favorite tunes
The deeper blue of late evening
Is her favorite back-drop for June
She loves to linger a moment too long
Where daisies and buttercups sigh
She loves to revel in midnight’s song
Beneath the cool of the sky

She loves the passion and wanderlust
That draws her from slumbers repose
She loves the scent of dew-laden dust
Tinged with the breath of a rose
She loves the murmur of green and blue
In summer’s pure work of art
She loves the whispering thoughts of you
Curving against her heart

She always thought for everything lost
Love gives something in return
But she never fathomed the bittersweet cost
Or the depths to which loving can yearn
She never fathomed that summer and love
Could leave in an afternoon
She never fathomed the bitter-sweet hurt
Wrapped up in the loving of June


Of Silences

There is a silence that is harsh
and cold with condemnation
but on a softer night, a hush,
of slow-yearning sensation
threatens to dispel the sigh
of longing or defeat
across a moonless midnight I
can feel a murmur sweep
in urgent whispers on my skin
until it pauses where
the tender ache of you begins
like sparks upon the air

it warms me on the coldest night
and thrusts aside my woe
a calm and sensuous delight
an iridescent glow
melting on my lips and tongue
yet moaning in my ear
ah, now I am forever young
within this atmosphere
intangible, the fervent touch
yet in it I am taken
trembling as its fingers brush
me softly, lest I waken


Empty Page

She wrote twenty letters
And threw them all away
What is there left to utter
When there’s nothing left to say?

Perhaps a single teardrop
Is the only thing to spell
How does one write of heartbreak
When there’s nothing left to tell?


The Emptiness of Things

Things lure with artificial promises
Leading to empty delusion
Never satisfying our formless lusts
With shiny and plastic profusion

Things are cold and hard and unfeeling
Its thrill is hollow and brief
An arrangement of emptiness, visually appealing
Unable to offer relief

But the night coming down with misty sighs
Quieting the noise of the day
The planting of dreams as I look in your eyes
The rush of the willow limbs sway

A touch full of warmth and wondering and wanting
A thrill wild and bittersweet
Causes things to fade with pathetic taunting
Like pebbles beneath our feet


Hand of God

Purple, pink and yellow
Orange and white and plum
The flowers are so beautiful
Nodding in the sun
A little glimpse of heaven
To deck this morbid sod
In their fragile beauty
We can see the hand of God

Gold and mauve and scarlet
Coral and deep blue
The sun in flaming splendor
Bids the day adieu
Gleaming through the maples
Lingering o’er the land
A silent, stunning master-piece
Wrought by heaven’s Hand

The pasture curves against the brook
The landscape to the sky
As silence deepens in each nook
And tender breezes sigh
The ache of beauty gathers
As nighttime sweeps the sod
To touch our humble heartstrings
With the tender hand of God


Monday, June 27, 2011

A Little Life

Arise, and let us be going
See how the daylight wanes
Beneath its lustrous glowing
All that yet remains
Within the nights tranquility
Is not what was…but what will be

The shadows of life are folding
Its spoils upon the grass
Amidst our toil and scolding
Our little lives will pass
And all that will rest beneath its shade
Are the choices we have made

See the summer pastures
Rippling in the sun
Yet in the gathering hours
Its fading has begun
And soon its emptiness will lie
Beneath a cold and quiet sky

Arise, and let us be going
For etched in the waning light
Are echoes of love and longing
Reaching for the night
As moments vanish in the clutch
Of sight and sound and taste and touch


Of Anything to Be

It cannot be touched
But oh, it touches me
Its cogency forms such
Vast possibility

Ravaging delight
Somber agony
The tenure and the might
Of anything to be

Ruthless barterer
To weigh the pros and cons
There is no barrier
Restraining what it spawns

Unguarded it will ruin
The wise man or the fool
For no one is immune
To its seductive rule

Teach me in its trance
Tease me in its gaze
Taunt me in its heedless dance
And tempt me in its blaze

I must control its realm
For on life’s shifting sea
Thought controls the helm
Of anything to be


Sunday, June 26, 2011


I know Whom I believe
I know He holds my hand
But it’s the where and what and why
I do not understand

I know love never fails
I know it is life’s power
And yet I’ve seen it tarnish
Summer’s pleasant hour

For all that I may know
Tis what I cannot see
That tests the very heart of it
…I know Whom I believe

For the which cause I also suffer these things: nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. 2 Tim. 1:12

Sonnet of Realizations

Scatter far across the dawn
Your effervescent sigh
Gather up the things you long for
Toss them to the sky

Is there a pinnacle of joy
On which to fix intent
Or are there simply moments where
Its happiness is spent?

The perfect summit of true love
Lies far beyond the cloud
Little shadows it may cast
Are but its feeble shroud

Breathe into your prayer
Each heartache and each tear
For it will reach the portals where
There is no toil or fear

Triumphs here on earth
Are momentary gasps
The only measures of true worth
Lay far beyond man’s grasp

The treasures we compile
That cannot cheer the grave
Are simply decorated bile
How wretched is its slave

The music of love’s song
Is life’s most precious prize
For it is very hard to dance
When its music dies

Scatter across the dawn
Your claim of wants and woes
For soon its dust is gone
To sleep beneath the rose


Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Days of Man

The days of man are dealt to him
One moment at a time
And none can know the sum of them
Or years that he may climb

In shades of summer’s afternoon
We long to live the hour
And by a blossomed meadow swoon
To drink its pleasant flower

We do not care to walk the road
Of rock and loathsome dirt
And none of us asks for the load
Of agony and hurt

But all the days of man are dealt
By He who holds the Door
There is no heartache we have felt
He has not felt before

Each day is like a chapter writ
No erasing or pretending
The Keeper knows the truth of it
And when will be the ending

How foolish is the man who trusts
In weak and mortal power
For we shall all return to dust
And no man knows the hour


Friday, June 24, 2011

The Storm

You came from out of nowhere
Rolling in across a sea
Sullen clouds pervading
With a dark intensity
And suddenly I’m drenched within
A reckless aftermath
Of pounding hooves and lightning bolt
A harsh and sudden bath

A rising, falling tempest
Duel of contrasting desire
Stunning in your boldness
Shocking in your ire
You tear across the skyline
Like a stallion, never tamed
Plundering and thundering
Wild and free; unclaimed

You break through my defenses
Like a deep and raging sea
Bursting in upon my senses
And my vulnerability
I should have seen you coming
But somehow I never do
As you shatter the horizon…
…it was just a thought of you


One Long Moment

There are moments looming
That I wish I could evade
But I must struggle through them
I cannot push them away

Then, there are little moments
I would re-live if I could
But to long for them is torment
And of little or no good

There are moments I am holding
That I’d cling to, but alas
Already they are folding
All their whispers in the grass

There are moments filled with laughter
Moments reaching for the sky
Forming one long ever-after
In the echo of good-bye, good-bye,good-bye



Perhaps you thought it’s what you do
Or by the words you say to me
Darling, it’s because you’re you…
That I love you completely

It’s nice to hear your lovely words
Or be the bearer of your charms
But darling, it’s you that leaves me stirred
And longing for your gentle arms

Touch is such a tender gift
You touch me from across the floor
Instinctively our eyes meet
As we head towards the door

Perhaps you thought it’s what you do
And in some way, well it might be
But darling, it’s because you’re you
That I love you with all of me


Thursday, June 23, 2011


When darkness overtakes the day
And the last glow of dusk is gone
When landscapes deepen to blue-gray
As earth and heaven become one…

When night extinguishes the sun
And stars like heaven’s candles gleam
When all our little toil is done
As willows sigh and children dream…

When sleepy pastures sprawl beneath
The silver murmur of the moon
When need and love and sorrow breathe
A low and melancholy tune...

When silence claims the thickening air
As breezes lose their energy
I embrace you in a prayer
And wish that you were here with me


So it Goes

Hurry, wait
Early, late

Break, mend
Foe, friend
Laugh, weep
Wake, sleep

Sunshine, rain
Pleasure, pain
Happy, sad
Good and bad

Love, lose
Beg, choose
Pursue, wander
Save or squander

Rich, poor
Less, more
Give and take
For goodness sake

Husband, wife
Joy, strife
And so it goes…
…this is life


I hurried because
I thought I was late...
But then of course
I got to wait...
...and wait....
....and wait!
Her exam went late:)))


Happiness comes in moments
It is not a destiny
It falls in tender splashes
To soften misery
I would never realize it
If it became my quest
I could not recognize it
This soft aching in my chest
If not for life’s small heart-aches
Or the tear upon my cheek
Happiness is waiting
Even as life’s sorrows speak
It comes in tender whispers
In a kind touch or a smile
It sweeps across an azure sky
To brighten weary miles
It drops in sudden sparkles
Fragments tinged with hope and love
It comes in songs and flowers
Heaven’s laughter from above
It shines in childish innocence
And fills our hearts with glee
For happiness is something
Living inside you and me


I just know it made someone happy to think
maybe Mom wouldn't notice
that the last item on the grocery list wasn't her hand-writing!!!


We are quiet now
The day has had its final word
And all that there is left of it
Are its shadows, blue and blurred

We are quiet now
The stars in sequined splendor reign
My heartbeat next to yours
Needs no utterance to explain

We are quiet now
The deeds we’ve rendered to this day
Are like small seeds in the ground
Eventually they’ll have their say

We are quiet now
Rivers run and dark spruce sighs
But I have heard a thousand poems
Just by looking in your eyes

We are quiet now
Nighttime rises all around
The force of mighty hurricanes
Touches us without a sound


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Pondering Love

If we were assured of our children’s love
As often as we tell God of ours
Tell me, would it be enough
As long as time and life endures
If the children that we hold
Would show us in the self-same measure
Their devotion, shy or bold
Tell me, would it give us pleasure
As they told us of their love
Like we tell God; would it be enough?

If our children spent the time for us
We spend upon our knees to pray
If they in all exact amounts
Gave us what we give God each day
Would we be assured of their love?
Would our cups fill and overflow?
Tell me, would it be enough
What we give God; for us below
Would we bow when light is dim
Fulfilled with what we give to Him?


The Art of Writing

Things are made to touch
Words are made to read
If you want to change the world
Pick up a pen and bleed

Tears weep from the eye
A dry pod drops a seed
Thoughts are locked within a mind
Pick up a pen and bleed

Everyone is born
As creatures of great need
Ink is man's most patient friend
Pick up a pen and bleed


I'm Sorry

‘I’m sorry’ is not a band-aid
To affix on every lie
‘I’m sorry’ bleeds from fingertips
And teardrops in your eye

‘I’m sorry’ is not a small, crass word
To remedy a failure
‘I’m sorry’ does not retrieve past hurt
A dagger to re-injure

‘I’m sorry’ with its over-use
Seems to have lost its purpose
‘I’m sorry’ does not add a ‘but’
For then its rendered useless


Telling the Truth

These tears are not for you
They have nothing to do with your leaving
And I am not that blue
There’s no reason to be grieving
For the want of you
Believe me, it is true
No, these tears are not for you

These tears are all for me
They really are quite pointless now
Wouldn’t you agree?
But I can’t seem to stop somehow
I’m not lonely, can’t you tell
My life is actually quite swell
Dang, I never could tell untruths very well


Invisible Masterpiece

As silent and stunningly spectacular
As lightning in the sky
Soundless, it’s surrender
As a falling butter-fly
Or the silver kiss of midnight dew
Crowning each blade of grass
Rib-caged, a wild and phantom spew
Erupts, like scarlet glass
But no one takes a picture
Of this priceless work of art
Or beholds in riveting horror
The carnage of a heart


Observations on Love

It’s not what you tell me that hurts me the most
Though truth can be brutal and bitter to taste
It’s what you don’t tell me that cuts to the core
Without trust, love is simply a futile waste

It’s not what you do that charms me most deeply
Though love shown in action is precious indeed
It’s what you don’t do when you could embellish my weakness
That tells me you love me beyond your own need

If you think I’m in need of designer affection
I have one thing to say, and I intend no hurt
But without tender respect, you can keep your advances
Love in the bedroom begins in the dirt


Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Farewell's Agony

Drag your fingers o’er my heart
For it will not come apart
Tease me with your wild half-grin
And that dimple on your chin

Touch me with your whispered word
Soft as weeping willows stirred
Lavish me with all your charms
Draw me closer in your arms

Trust me with your deepest grief
Love me beyond all belief
Let me linger in your eye
Oh, but do not say good-bye

Love me, love me till I cry
Oh, but do not say good-bye
Alas, I see with clarity
Love is farewell’s agony



I’d like to think that next time would be different
And in the end it wouldn’t be the same
I’d like to think maybe I’d learned my lesson
And I’d find someone new to take the blame
But as I look into the mirror, void of any hint of youth
The answer becomes clearer; cold and bitter, ugly truth

I’d like to think maybe I’d be less stubborn
And time would mellow you a little too
But life is simply history repeated
And in the end there’s really nothing new
I’d like to think that next time I’d be much wiser
But youth has barred the door;a heartless miser



Memories bleed in profuse silence
From the wound within her chest
Love has shattered her resilience
This is heartache at its best

Tears are but a tiny hemorrhage
Of the gulf tearing within
What can bind a wretched heartache?
But to forgive and love again


Spectacular Silence

Little did you know as you walked by
You tore her heart from her chest
With the blink of an eye

You touched it for a moment; a trite distraction
Ignoring the aftermath
Wrought by rejection

You did not hear the deafening sound
Of hope erupting
In spectacular heartbreak, to the ground



In the generosity of moments
I have held you close to me
Just to touch the poet’s torment
And the dreamer’s misery

On a rainy night in April
I still see you walk away
One among a-thousand people
In a mass of painted gray

Now I hold its bitter token
Like a shell without a sea
All those words we should have spoken
As I held you close to me

There are no solitary moments
The end of one leads to the next
But there are solitary torments
That can leave us deeply vexed


Thank-you, Dad

For that time I totaled the car
And you didn’t get mad
For the times I simply condoned
The very wise words you said
Or didn’t speak at all
And you wished I would…
But still you were patient
And understood
I thank you, Dad

For the times I brushed off
Words carefully measured
For the times I broke your heart
Not treasuring what you treasured
For all the times I’ve failed
But you never give up on me…
I thank you, Dad

For all the prayers I know you pray
For all the wise, kind words you say
For all the things that you teach me
Not by word, but what I see
For all your patient, faithful love
As taught by a Father up above
Thankfully I bow my head
And whisper thank-you
Thank-you Dad

A Melody

The wind rushes from the sky tonight
In a forlorn melody
While flickering shadows and moonlight
Add their oblique harmony

The waves, pastel-tinted at sunset
Deepen to a murky blue
An ebbing and flowing sonnet
Of love and longing and you

The wind rushes from the sky tonight
Moving effortlessly
To draw the darkness across the light
And moments between you and me



If I could gather summer’s hours
Into baskets like wild flowers
Then I would, oh, you know that I would
If I could gather moments too
The haunting, taunting thoughts of you
I’d pluck them like wild flowers if I could

But summer is a whisper slipping by on nimble fingers
Summer is an hour, maybe two
And there’s no way to gather you or summer’s hastening footsteps
Disappearing into evenings languid hue

If I could gather summer’s twilight
And its misty, moody midnight
Then I would, oh, you know that’s what I’d do
I’d fill my arms with faded flowers
Trying to re-capture hours
That have vanished; full of moments, summer, you

For summer’s eager yearning glances by with no returning
And all that I can do is watch it pass
Like a child, restless and dreaming, racing to a twilight gleaming
Over moments tossed like flowers on the grass

If I could gather you and hold you
Kiss you, hug you, keep you, scold you
Then I would, oh, you know that’s what I’d do
But you’re eager as the summer
Dashing, leaping to the future
As I watch and smile and shed a tear or two

For childhood is a summer, far too soon its dance is over
As its echo trembles in the autumn dew
Darling, give me just one hour for I do not have the power
To hold back the summer or my want of you


Saturday, June 18, 2011

Almost Nothing

It was really nothing…
At least for a moment or two
Though it tore at my inner being
With a force, savage and blue

It was really nothing
But it left a ragged tear
On the fringe of every heart beat
To remind me it was there

It was really nothing
Oh, it is almost true
Though I staggered momentarily…
…it was merely a thought of you


The End of our Day

At the end of the day when the miles we have wandered
Slumber forever in the mist of the past
When every action and thought has been tendered
To pages and pictures that cannot be re-cast
When words like small seeds have been spoken and scattered
And time alone will reveal their true worth
Will we have tended to the things that mattered?
As we reach the end of our day here on earth


Without a Sound...

Thought tears up the sky
And traverses oceans
It touches upon heaven
And the fringes of hell
The eye is a window
Concealing a prison
Where silent thought ravages
An ivory cell

Thought weeps in the midnight
And breathes on the morning
It wanders the pathways
Of joy and regret
Flashes of lightning
And storms without warning
Splay across moments
Where once we had met

In intimate whispers
And wild raging rivers
Comfort and sorrow
Rise and fall on a floor
Where jagged reminders
And faltering quivers
Echo a ballad
That is no more


Thursday, June 16, 2011

Our Children

They drop their playthings on the floor
They spill the milk and slam the door
They scatter socks and toys and clothes
They smudge the windows with their nose

They leave crumbs to kiss our feet
While asking what there is to eat
They ask for money and for stuff
But they never ask for love

They ask for keys with sweetest smile
They drive us crazy for a while
They begin so very small
Then suddenly they’re standing tall

Nothing upon the face of this earth
Holds in its palm a greater worth
Than our children; as we hold them
Softly and tenderly we begin to mold them

Have you told your children you love them today?
Did you hold them close, oh, and did you pray?
Did you tell them they’re special, that boy or wee girl
Did you kiss the future of this world?

To waste time with a child is impossible
For they are this earth’s most important people
Yes, they forget things; we did too
But oh, we love them, we sure do


Of Simple Things

I’m lover of simple things, it’s true
Of butterfly wings and the color blue
Of the way your eyelids brush your cheek
When you are a little too shy to speak

I am a lover of the fingers of night
Pushing away the flamboyant light
I’m a lover of the sullen rain
The newborn calf, the windswept lane

I’m lover of spring and summer and fall
The uncertainty in your voice when you call
I’m lover of the dawn brushed heavy with dew
The season’s songs, the night and you

I’m lover of simple things, its true
Strawberry blossoms are poetry too
Fingertips as they brush my skin
Cheeks that dimple when you grin

Freckles splashed upon your nose
Dandelion stains on your clothes
Chubby hands and small bare feet
White-washed sands and pebble beach

If I could choose from all life brings
I would choose its simple things
God, never let me be too busy to see
The simple gifts you place around me


While Having My Morning Coffee...

Darkness creeps languorously away from the dawn
A soft breeze wanders across the lawn
Possibilities breathe upon the air
Drawing from me, a wordless prayer

Daylight wavers on the landscapes brink
In trembling quivers of coral and pink
Somewhere past this line of view
Is another world full of people…and you

Feathered throat and green-laden tree
Merge in a rushing symphony
Arousing in me an intangible Presence
Of Power and Hope and wistful essence

Coffee is simply a minor detail
As I behold dawn’s miracle
Sheening the meadow and fading the mist
As earth’s drowsy eye-lids are heaven-kissed


Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.” Lam.3:22-24

There Will Be Poetry

As long as the river runs into the sea
As long as a baby bounces on our knee
As long as the clover and meadow-sweet nod
As long as we see the hand of God
There will be poetry

As long as the wind stirs the willow tree
As long as the rains strums its melody
As long as there is love and longing and loss
As long as there is victory in the cross
There will be poetry

As long as sun floods the grassy lea
As long as you fill the thoughts of me
As long as there are stars and a moon
As long as there is a midnight in June
There will be poetry


Rainy Night

Together we listen to the rain
And let it wash away life’s pain

A rainy night draws us together
But we do not talk about the weather

There is music in its sigh
I feel it tremble in your eye

Together we listen to the rain
Then I put down the phone again


Midnight in June

A breeze rises from the meadow
Beyond the clouds is the moon
Trees cast a flickering shadow
Across a midnight in June

The river curves through the valley
The cattail stands tall in the pond
The past folds into the darkness
Veiling the great beyond

Thoughts of you rise from my longing
Beyond its touch is desire
Hope is a flickering candle
Midnight a raging fire

The want of you curves through my being
Truth curtails all fantasy
For the only thing I am seeing
Is the darkness between you and me


Wednesday, June 15, 2011


I am like a young child, torn
Twixt impulse and obeying
Desire throbs upon the morn
With duty ever preying

The stalwart lupine tugs my gaze
Scattering my wishes
I am torn by summer’s ways
And stacks of dirty dishes

Laundry baskets weight my arms
I sense the charted hours
But life is short, the sun is warm
And fields are bright with flowers

Am I to tread the rigid line
Controlled by austere duty
While morning zephyrs tease the vine
Of summer’s rampant beauty?

Too soon the eye of June grows dull
And faded is its flower
Laundry hampers will be full
Long after summer’s hour

I am like a young child, torn
Two voices taunt my reason
Duty wakes with every morn
But summer for a season


Lying Beneath an Ocean

The white-capped sea of middle-June
Evolves to azure blue
Sunlight dims the pallid moon
And warms the fields of dew

Not long ago the pining breeze
Whipped past with ruthless chill
But now it feathers grass and trees
And climbs the wooded hill

Heaven’s expanse I cannot trace
But with a thought of you
Drifting into timeless space
And endless vaults of blue

The limb so long stripped bare and lean
Softens its woody grasp
Unfolding gowns of yellow-green
In pools of shaded grass

Far is the sky of middle-June
A vast and white-capped ocean
Where I could drift an afternoon
Beneath its grand illusion


In Spite of Life

And there you scrawled your name
Boldly, without shame
Across a page reserved
For love; and I unnerved
Had nothing to reply
Or could it be that I
Chose thus, in spite of life
Disappointments wretched knife…


Tuesday, June 14, 2011

There's Something about You

There’s something about you…
Soft warmth draping over my shoulder
When the sky deepens past its ruddy hue
And shadows grow moody and colder

There’s something about you…
As raindrops thrum their hollow tune
Upon the walls where ivy grew
One rare, fine night in June

There’s something about you…
That repetition can’t destroy
Now I know that it is true
Anticipation is half the joy

There’s something about you
Where tender joy and sadness meet
There is something raw and blue
That sparks a poem; bittersweet

There's something about you...
That reminds me constantly
As sun-flecked tree-tops turn to blue
You are far too far from me


Almost Enough

Has anyone ever said, ‘it is enough’?
Enough money, enough ‘stuff’
Enough prosperity, enough success
Enough wealth and happiness

Has anyone ever said their happiness
Was found by enough money and success
By wealth and all that it could buy
Spread out beneath an endless sky?

Nay, this world can never give enough
For money cannot buy happiness or love



Poetry is not a word
Or a line or a rhyme
It is a thought, a passion stirred
With whisper of finger-tips
And lips,
Saying nothing in particular
And everything
At the same time
Poetry is murmured by breezes
And crashing of the sea
Poetry is a caged thought set free
In nothing more than the hint of a smile
Or the glimmer of regret
Shining in your eye
Over reaching an age of knowing
Too much, and yet
Nothing at all
Poetry weeps in the rain as it falls
And seeps through the darkness
Like a somber cloak
Yet my heart breaks loose
By a thought you spoke
With nothing more
Than the wisp of a sigh
In your glance
As you passed by…


Life's Dance

Even life’s best moments
Will eventually be
For all of our holding
But a memory

Moments of sorrow
Must have their day
But if there’s a tomorrow
It too passes away

I hold you to me
Knowing full well
Tis but a prelude
To farewell



Tis not an unfamiliar thing
The dusk-blue twilight knitting
The horizon to the sky
In art of heav’n’s befitting

Tis not an unfamiliar thing
The half-breath that I take
As I sense you slipping
From me as I wake

Tis not an unfamiliar thing
As sunlight paints the day
To hear you softly whispering
Before you slip away