Tag: Writing

A light breeze Sunshine and butterflies A thousand birds warble Won’t you sit with me, dear one, In this arbor of clematis? The Spring is lost If I cannot...

My god may not be your god. And frankly, it doesn’t matter. I can only know mine. We’re tied to the hip like that.

It’s been awhile since I posted a poem on my blog. I have been writing poetry, but it’s top secret now. Too bad for you. However, this one is for ma...

Snow melts in giant gunpowder mountains, Unevenly arrayed trumpets of— A locket from which summer will— spring. I’ll swear not To drop it. But I will. And...

God the Man watches his children. “She is alone.” “He is alone.” “That one, too, is alone.” “There is no comfort for m...

There is something like death in it. … and the gift of new birth wrapped in ribbons of a waking sun. There is sadness. There is redness. When the heart gr...

(He wrote so carelessly) You are the parched breath of my lonely desert And the sand that cuts like broken crystal And the blinding empyrean. The denizens of th...

Each day is hard, my Love. Discomfited by fond memories. Remember when you laid your head on my lap As we watched The African Queen? I smoothed the strands of y...