When your grandmother decided for care and comfort and laid a string of pearls across an ocean it’s open depths yawning the unknown a depth you could not follow So you said your prayers beneath cerulean heavens and bribed the Norse god of independence to gather the shards of your broken soul After a while, … Continue reading
My mind drifts from the still life in landscape painted in oil breaking up the melancholy of cursed rooms to the center of the hospital bed as I stood next to my mother pressing my pulse to her’s willing her to live her life dispensing into my soul losing cherished moments running through my fingers … Continue reading
There’s a news flash today Oh wait, in the new world order there is always breaking headlines President Trump tweeted… Elevator to the 2nd floor landing a certain familiar quiet greets the stilled entry into the sunroom where a small spider glides smoothly knitting a web hung on silver space. In the corner … Continue reading
You might slip away solitary one day as the sun sinks low at eventide or drift away one April morning as a burst of green returns to cloak the brown earth amid the little sprite faces of flowers painting the scenery like finicky artists You might slip away from a small existence having learned a … Continue reading
As sorrow bounced in soft waves upon the moonlight the sweet earth prepared the young man brimming with melancholy conquered by the sting of hollow and sinking sadness the wounds of despair burning raw… The window of this poem wishes to close but instead, hangs open on rusty hinges we must see it, we must … Continue reading
I drew him as he stood in the morning light on a stairway to statues crafted from the veins of David. Now I must go back and fill in spaces to mark the shadows creeping in on my fine, sculpted image. Someday I will hang the drawing in evening’s still light and sketch the lines … Continue reading
After Labor Day, things are a bit quieter in this little town. It seems that the wicked arm of violence that so plagues the larger cities all over the world can rise up anywhere. And so it happened here. Last Friday afternoon, when everyone was looking forward to a nice long, weekend, two junior high … Continue reading
As the wind blows around those silos there and grains scatter from the hand of care the sun is going down on the village builder. A harridan disrupts this peace flimsy time rattles this rock, now a sinking stone waves crash in loss unison. The lighthouse glow grows dimmer sundowners is coming round those eyes … Continue reading
Last stop church pews sunlight streaming through stained glass windows wooden casket for a metal maker lost that tug-o-war Death pulled harder. Now he is all dressed up frozen in Sunday best and this tiny hamlet is quite. Organ playing notes of harmony and peace Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. The aroma of lilies and carnations … Continue reading
“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” — T.S. Eliot The Waste Land So we sat there in early spring after she got that dismal news sat right on her back porch and she wondered if it would be possible … Continue reading
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