Love is a lingered whisper upon the soul which cannot be erased. Be it in a simple word or dot upon the page. Love, though it be of friend or lover, is the greatest armor for which to bear the sharp edges of the world. To boldly love is a gift unteachable. It is a calling of the heart and the strength of gentle hands. ♥

{{Inspired by a dear friend who in the simplest but most powerful ways makes the world a better place}}


Battle Ballad

The moon is rising above the fray

the smoldering embers of a long fought day

while we wearily lay the armor of our fight upon the earth

Do not despair, my love,

the night will hold no fear

its dreams are ours for She

calls us to rest and be


we will go out upon the morrow

we will march out with shields and colors

but the night will hold no fear

the Lady calls us to rest

until Lon-dubh draws dawn near.

So until then, let the water of your tears

wash away my weary

wash away hearts heavy here

let the balm of your kiss

sooth away my wounds

sooth away hearts heavy here

until Lon-dubh draws dawn near

oh may She wait long

may She let night pause in your embrace

and give way a year

until Lon-dubh draws the dawn near.

but we will go boldly out upon the morrow

we will march out with shield and colors

and the night will leave us with no fear

as the Lady calls us to wake

when the Lon-dubh draws near.


{{working on this draft   &  Lon-dubh means blackbird}}

Morning has slipped

Morning has slipped her fingers under the skin of the sky and lit it with fire and ice. The sweat from the storms still glistens upon the world. Air has taken on a hint of earth mixed with the freshness of a day dreaming of heat. And I, have found my way to a chair, mug in hand, to watch blackbirds dance in the weeds.

A confession

For whatever deed I have done
to deserve the kindnesses given
I know it not, and confidently give voice
……    “I will never sufficiently return it”

Perhaps days some time hence,
when the dust of life has settled
when ere the frost of age is laid
upon our tables,
we shall share a mug of bests
delights of our senses
and speak adventures here.
And if surely not upon this life –
perhaps upon the next.

Carving Board

I am not

your carving board

I. am. not. your carving board!

I am not the place to hold your

hatred when it’s dull edge

needs to feel souls bleed!


I am not your carving board!

I am not

your punching bag

I. am. not. your punching bag!

I am not skin holding your

worthlessness when i’s frayed image

needs to feel like it has knuckled teeth


I am NOT your punching bag!

I am not

your garbage bin

I. am. not. your GARBAGE BIN!

I am not the bone structure waiting

for the deragatory spit you spew

when language has your fill


I am NOT your garbage bin

I am not your sale

I am not your deal

I am not your break up

slide down

lay back and un-feel

while you thrill

I am not your undo

your untrue

your reason to forget

I am not your sin

your stick up fed up

get luck – y dirty

clothes pin

holding up the laundry

you refues to hang out

to dry

neither am I your

false pride

I am not your shadow lying

your peeping eye prying

your dogma flaunting

hatred signing

standing on the corner

mocking mourners

I am not your breaking

nor your entering

nor your black and blue


no.  nO. NO!

I AM courage

though you strike me

I AM bravery

though you cut

I AM authentic

though you disparage

I AM me

though you think I’m not




so no

I am not your cutting board


Faces blur
motion ceases
moon grows
stars fall
and wishes turn
to dust
as you walk by
as you move through
the world

and they call you an unreachable

but all it seems
to me
is an opportunity to follow
a chance to change my
and a chance
to work out the fraction
of my broken hearts
into a moment
to great to be
to be great

So faces go ahead an blur
motion stop on a dime
I got all the time
in the world
I got what no one else can see
I got what every one passes by
wait and see

::stomp my feet::
::get up feel a beat::
::put one foot forward::
::put the next one

I got this

a moment
fear holds
notions turn
doubt surfaces
and words fail
dried ink
as you walk by
as you move through
my world

and they call you an unreachable
but… then…

I take your hand

I got this
So faces go ahead an blur
motion stop on a dime
I got all the time
in the world
I got what no one else can see
I got what every passer by
bleeds but
doesn’t give back

got you
a dream




The Message

Just behind the heartache
and slightly left of some regret
past the boxes of soon to forget
and haven’t got to yets
further deep and just beyond
the joyous pangs and
fiendish wants
ontop of dreams still yet to come
and laying on a chair
is a jacket with a pocket
go look there…
folded up
warn edges frayed
a note
left for just a day
like today.

“Dear self
The room in your heart may get cluttered. The bookshelf will surely get full. Some boxes will move to make memories room and some junk will get stuck on the edges. Sure wishes will flutter like moths on the wall, and dust will cover some dreams with the ages of fall. BUT this chair remains, free of all mess, place for you to come ponder and rest. May it ease your mind, with all the treasures you find, and remind you to forget all the rest. – love your heart”