To My Knees…


It’s not the cloying

thoughts of yesterday’s

now gone..

Not the dreams

of memories past

my aching shakes loose..

Nor those what were then’s and when’s

that bring me to my knees…


..It is all the never agains

that ever can

… un-do me …


( re-posting )


Weep No More…

My lost beloved

Let tears cease to fall

On thoughts ill conceived

Or notions imagined…

Too long have you wandered forlorn,

Deep in muddied bogs,

Feeling for hidden stones perceived

With hands scarred and worn by denial…

The sharp ache a fable made

Brought eyes to weeping’s brim

Blinding any certain view

From one in search and need of truth…


Spilled Ink…

Would a face turn

From this simple gift

Or tear the parchment

Of a poem penned?

Might feelings spilled

In one moment of vulnerability

And careless abandon

Encourage a deaf ear to hear?

Could some worth be seen

In an offering so small,

 Absent a jewels shine,

Holding solely this beating heart of mine?


A Mending…

Though her fingertips ached and bled,

With every needle pierce,

Each stitch was delicately constructed

Using silken threads of gratitude…

Tattered patterns had been sown

In a worn, carelessly quilted, tapestry

Which need now be mended

With time she no longer had left to spare….


Frosted Tribulations ( With Phen Weston)

Platitudes came disguised,

Wrapped neatly up

In glittered trappings,

A not so subtle attempt

At repurposing stale fare.

It came with the season,

Regressed to a state of fruition,

In trappings blackened

In the harsh blast of winter,

Lovers of frozen care.

Fear wore a cloak of pride,

Frosted panes of doubt,

Concealing jagged cracks and scars.

Trophies left behind

By lies cold bite.

Was there ever a reason

As frigid as this?

Distinguished humiliation trained

Behind those soft eyes,

Locked in undetermined words.

Desire had fed the embers

Of unwarranted expectations,

Only to be doused by disappointment,

And the once warm pulse of want

Was stilled in icy veins.


This piece was a collaboration with the talented wordsmith

Phen Weston

As ever, writing with him is a joy and honor

Pretentious Charade….

Measuring tapes, rulers and scales

hold this world hostage

to a narrow minded view of significance, worth and value…

That which bears no mark

or stamp of popular approval

nor declaration of virtue

is ignored, overlooked or tossed away…

Easily won is Easily discarded

What we have and hold grows tiresome


Unless or until

it is gone

…forever lost…

Only then might we grieve

what indifference cost…

If indeed this is the nature of our beast

to quantify quality

…greatest and least…

What then of tolerance, love and hope

What of equality….


Mother Mourns

She had freely shared her bounty

And her grand rich majesty

Her mountains and her forests

Lakes, rivers and deepest seas

Entrusting to all humankind

The creatures she held dear

Believing they’d be tended well

And her gifts would be revered

Cement and dark pollution

In mans zest for ever more

Laid waste to countless treasures

Silencing the lions roar

She mourned at how her loved ones

Had been harmed unmercifully

And for having placed her faith in those

With no integrity ….