Category: Author

It is not time yet
for you to go
You are always with me
I have watched you grow

From a little rambunctious pup
into this massive bundle of fur
Against all the naysayers
your heart and soul stayed pure

It is not time yet
you can not let go
In the endless days ahead
I can not alone forego

Steadfast and loyal are you
you are my very heart
A bond and love so deep
please do not depart

It is not time yet
for you to go
More trails we have to conquer
more love we have to grow

A flicker of remembrance, the forgotten memory faint with feeling. A curl of foreboding, split by a piercing circle of fear. The illusive key to completing the game, a mere tip born from interpretation of a jagged scar bearing the words, that will release the spirit and set it free.

Bird mantra the ribbon of chain
and beads holding the key to the shaft
of happiness hidden behind the veil

The bearded and those who
have but a scar left where their soul
once resided within the grounds of life

Reach for the elusive mantra
that once drew them to the truth
switches the evil into the righteous

In response to Jim at Mindlovemisery Friday Faithful’s Prompt – Man’s Best Friend

A bundle of joy
you certainly were not
A destroyer of toys
and chair legs I begot

The first six months I pondered
what have I wrought
Thinking instead a pretty nice
outfit I should have bought

Yet even then within my heart
this round little fluff ball did trot
Said all to me you should give her up
that pup’s not worth a dog-gone squat

Four years ago it was today
my Koda came a huge long-shot
Not for the sake of my favorite quilt
not even for my ruined teapot

Couldn’t ever in a million years
give her up as I’m completely besot
Her big blue eyes and sweet smile
will keep her mine – the little snot!

Koda now!

Extremely humbled by the acceptance of seven of my poems for publication by the awesome Susi Bocks, Editor-in-Chief at The Short of It! Announcement of feature dates forthcoming.

Thank you so much Susi! 🙏

Voice so soft carried
away by the wind
Like the plaintive cry
of a new born chick

The mighty Hawk
and the stately Eagle
Their strong voices
squashing all others

A baby’s cry masks
a mother’s lonely tears
Each year slips by
her voice unheard

Gentle and true
she sings her song
Alone in the forest
no one hears her there

She sings and she sings
a melodious plea
Deep in the woods
where no one can see

So happy and honored that Editor and Director of Development, Dagmara K. at Spillwords has chosen my piece titled The Old House, to be published 1/9/24 at 2am Eastern Time (ET).

You can access my published piece through the following link: https://spillwords.com/the-old-house/

Thank you Dagmara and Spillwords for your continued support!

Eyes can not see through the dense fog
of disappointment and grueling pain
No light penetrates the foul smelling
mist devouring beauty and life

Ears no longer hear the sweetness
of music over the human cacophony
Deceased notes of serenity and joy
hang from trees barren of green leaves

Nose knows only the prevailing scents
of death – depravity and decay
Eroding the sweet scent of flowers
and trees carried on salty sea breezes

Speech is frozen deeply inside
immobilized by rejection’s loneliness
Fear snatches away love and hope
leaving behind a hollowed out soul

Victorious dawn slowly escapes
the clutches of suffocating darkness
Brilliant specteral’s of red and yellow
slice through remnants of the blackness

Bird song resounds through the trees
celebrating another day of living
Flowers curled tightly against the night
open colorful arms to the warm light

Clouds joyously bounce and dance
dissipating beneath the sun’s wrath
Raindrops leap from stormy clouds
falling in formation toward the land

Half of Mother Earth sighs in relief
her creatures now free to traverse
While across her massive expanse
dirt cools beneath the grip of night

The night stretches on and on
darkness lives forever without you.
The ache of loss of never was
becomes intolerable heartache at night.

Morning is interminable eons away
the light of day forever out of reach.
Dawn’s hurt held at bay by the night’s
cruelest possessive grip.

Loneliness conspires with the deep suffocating blackness of night.
Its presence permeates lungs and heart
destroying the fading light of hope.