Lost Poem of a Young Man
(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...
Category: Writing
Each Day is Hard
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...
I Hear Your Name
I hear your name, The softness of it. In dark hours When I and my restless wandering Are breached by still waters. I see your face And follow it. Sense your lim...
That’s Her
That’s her. That is her. Time doesn’t spoil the spirit. It cracks the cocoon That is her body open. That’s her. That is her. The wind won̵...
And Now I Remember
And now I remember. It’s like the first breath. Past troubled lives. Over shards of painted idols roughly hewn By a dumb craftsman. I’m with you now...
Lunchtime Poetry
Wash it all away. Into the quiet … Hush. I stand before my God. What else was I seeking?
Six Word Memoir For the Past Six Months
It was fun. Then it wasn’t.
Lunchtime Poetry
A train passes, cries. Sobbing new life throbs within once quiet hills.
Lunchtime Poetry
Geese tread icy waters. They don’t shiver, But I think they’re cold. Their little brains cannot plumb Man’s artifice. But neither can Man. &nb...