Turning

I saw silver and gold and I was told I could have it all,
So I answered the call … I turned;
I saw fame and fortune and was told I could lay my claim,
So I did so with no self-blame … I turned;
I heard the blackbird promise power and my own great tower,
So I laid my bricks and did not cower … I turned;
I heard an old bard sing that peace was all mine to lease,
So I began to buy and did not cease … I turned;
I smelled all of the myriad roses in their beautiful poses,
So I started to buck and pluck … I turned;
I saw adulation and was told to clench it without hesitation,
So I made this my vocation … I turned…
Always turning, and always churning and burning with a hole
In my soul, and now I’m tired of being mired in such insane
And senseless pursuits that really suit no person, even me;
It’s like chasing the wind, running round every single bend,
Breaking my fragile heart, which not one of these could mend
Or even all of them taken together like one solitary feather;
But I hear the Voice that calls from the halls of my spirit,
And I realize that I’ve been unwise, creating my own demise;
Yet the Voice still beckons ‘n means to reckon with this man;
Ah! And so I turn one more time to hear this still, soft chime,
And will I need turn again or, perhaps, I’m done with turning
Even as I feel the smile and hear, ‘Come and welcome home.’


Note: Originally published in April 2016, now republished due to some renewed interest as well as for the consideration and enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

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Tidal Wave of Creativity

It’s like a tidal wave ready to hit the shore,
More than this, like some score to be settled
In my soul with a hole in my heart to be filled;
I’m grilled by thoughts running wild, words filed
Away for me to summon forth, phrases drum on
In my psyche, twirling and swirling frantically
Searching for a way out to have their pen-say;
But do I know how to string them together in
Some sensible order, to bring them together in
Sweet flowing stream from overflowing dream?
So I write to lessen the bite of insane pain
Felt in the deepest part of my poetic heart.


Note: Previously published in February 2016, now being republished on its anniversary for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

Ode to Love (Recast)

Love can be so cruel, so unkind, and oh-so blind;
Enough to make the fool drool, but the wise one
Sees the forest beyond the trees and honey bees;
Love can be like only bare and stone-cold bones,
Or it can be as one small flower growing in power;
And love can be like fine wine or be high and dry;
Love is free and wild, and won’t be tame and mild;
Love is a child, ever growing into showing wisdom,
Free yet to be whatever the world around shall see;
Never contained, hardly ever restrained, and not
To be disdained, for love is love as it is, and love
Comes from Love from Above…
Yes, it can bring pleasure like an exquisite treasure
Or it can bring pain with no gain and seem insane;
Ah! is it worth the while? But what is life without
Love except bland with no real demand? This love
In all its complexity sells itself to the soul and
Then compels, propels to great heights with might!
Love is and shall be … for you, everyone, and me…
For love defines our life as it is and ever shall be …


Note: Previously published in April 2016

The Prodigal

Yeah, I remember that day, the day I turned and walked away;
And did I even say goodbye or just fly out into the unknown?
Yeah, it was great for awhile, but I had no mate; I was alone
And eventually chilled to the bone, just like dead cold stone;
Did I hear you calling me back from falling into my own pit?
Ah! but I refused to listen, confused by my own damn idea
Of some great panacea that only proved to be a real sick kick!
But you never took your eyes off of me; you could always see,
And you kept calling while I was curled in the corner balling;
So now will this prodigal return or continue to burn inside
Of himself, where he’s pressed to abide? But you do not chide;
Sweetly, softly, your voice neatly flows in the cool breeze…
It’s been so long since I’ve known what it means to belong,
To be held in your arms, protected from all harms and alarms;
But will I wait at your gate or enter your chamber so great?
Will I, the prodigal, come home to you?
Ah! you knew … you knew, didn’t you?


Note: Previously published in April 2016, now republished for the reading enjoyment of new followers. Blessings to one and all!

Scars and Stars

If you live long enough
You’ll have some scars,
From the near and far,
From inside the home
And from the outside,
Where strangers meet
And greet and eat you!
But then you will learn
To walk miles of trials
And burn all the trash
At every turn each day
Along the way and say,
‘Hello light and dark,
Sun, moon and stars!
Shine on all my scars,
So bright in my sight!
After all, I’m full alive
In this world beehive!’
And so there will be . . .
Scars and Stars


Note: Previously published in August 2016. Hope you enjoy! Blessings to one and all!

Who Will Peek Beneath Your Hood Of Words?

Always, in every way, every day
You give until you bleed to feed
Your hungry need to be understood
Even beneath your hood of words;
It’s the only means to speak,
To give the world a peek
Into your overflowing soul,
Slowing the rhythm of your heart
To show in part the art of who
You are and what you’ve been
From the start; does anyone listen?
Do they read to fulfill your need?
Yet you open another vein believing
But ne’er receiving what’s beyond
Your conceiving: You’re deceiving
Yourself again, but when you begin
To realize the prize you want
Is beyond you to seize; it’s just
Another disease of the human soul,
Bowl of emptiness…
But you keep trying, lying to your
Heart that you’ll find the better
Part of humanity even among insanity,
And this for your own vanity:
You’re but a grain of beach sand,
Member of the wandering band
Of flesh-and-blood, fresh from
Its own pen marks on otherwise
Blank pages supplied by heavenly
Sages down through the ages, so…
Who will peek beneath your hood
Of words, where birds of self-
Revelation fly before you
Say goodbye after you try
Just one more time, just once more?



Note: Previously published in December 2015, republished due to some renewed interest and also for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Peace and blessings to all!

Throws and Blows of Dementia

O strength that takes a twisted turn
Burn the mind and bind all sensibility
Vaulted vanity is replaced by insanity
As the adult becomes the wild child
~ No longer meek and mild ~
She seeks the past as present
As if it’ll last ‘n the future is far gone
Fond memories fade as if bade to go
So low have they sunk into oblivion
Dying while trying to live in a fog
And all life has become a thick bog
. . .
And this is one person being caught
In the throws and blows of dementia



Note: Dedicate to all who suffer with this horrid affliction as well as to their dear families and loved ones. May the the Great Physician lead us to a cure soon!