Tag Archives: Self Discovery

I woke up this morning

I woke up this morning listening to the sun
rise in the voices of birds and the sway of buds on limbs
clouds cast shadowed light on multi-green tresses
while two on four read the news on the edges of fences
and the fallen patch of clover
somewhere above me a plane lifted towards stars towards
a destination longed for
cars in the distance strumbled and strayed towards parking garages
neighbors called to unseen dogs
and I wrapped this up with a yawn
yes, I woke up this morning listening to the sun
and met life impatiently waiting.

Writer’s Block

My mind;

an aquarium of  [ word and phrase ]

behind thick glass and soft lights.

swimming gracefully

darting chaotically

dipping and dive-


curving and careen-




Childlike, I place my hand

upon the barrier between us

lean in and trace the trail of syllable,

metaphor and meter across coral structured

templates and free versed sea weed,

growing out of rocks of jubilee and jumbled

alliteration, allusion, and hyberbole

unable to chorale them.

Thus, for the moment.  I am inclined

to simply breathe them in

and enjoy the finest array of

etymological specimens dancing before


writer’s block.

Somewhere, where the sidewalk ends

Somewhere, where the sidewalk ends,

my foot intrepidly tipped and toed out over

a dusted edge;  worn with the

age of ancient travelers and

standing guard for others to tread.

In the landscape reaching out beyond

mist and grey mottled sage sea billows up

in defiance, thumbing its leaf and tendril at

cemented steel monsters; consequently

beckoning me to remain – safe and



The clarivoant sky plays stories of

could be and should be while

megalithic microscopic slither stomp and stray in

a game of tag with memoried moments marred and maligned

with vivacious joy and undetermined sadness

as hummingbird flight trips towards tantilizing

heavens teasing raven black shadows to chase;

my imagination uncaged:

Oh, here, where the edge drops off

stone turns and humble rock

gather to host a trail of events

leading to a brilliantly begged beginning and seeking an

reverently ridiculous end

in a story to spin for another


Lingering, for many a day

I’ve sought council on character crossing countenance’s

countenance to decifer

what words to hire, inspire and toss

and tarry across the threshold of vision

to worlds I cannot see

but holding on to with hopes blade and

verses torch, in this new land of

unbridled horse runners, dog sleepers, and

birds speaking french;

for a story unfolding and


Out here, where the sidewalk ends,

my every word universe of every

needed fabled verse awaits my

next move.

Cold Floor…

Cold floor

bitter dream

I sit

lingering frustration of

words remaining sealed

in cages

mounts fierce echoes in


Hands long to move

like old ink across new paper

to the ticking of thought

and fascination of favor

but for days

the sun and moon have greeted

a blank slated mind

unable to untangle

and bring forth even a prayer

to honor the blessing of breath,

no only


Eyes scanned the testament of nature

searched blade and throng of

fowl floating in storm billowed cloud,

approached and reproached

the edges of nothing for a glimpse of


a muse

a spark given

if even out of pity

deafening silence within.

but I have come back with


and languish

here in this


the canvas



lined horizon of possibilities


and the audience of

futures beyond me



Worthmont High

It stands

beneath the limbs and


the canter call of


its bricks reach up towards

multi memoried


as intrepid feet

lean forward

push onward

skuttle backwards

laugh and mingle tears

within its soul;

It stands.

It stands

amongts the triumph

and struggle

its cold stone veins

leading the just and

the mightly defeated

in ordered hours

and lingered speeches

in the pursuit of


the pursuit of gain;

it stands.

It stands

in silence

a witness to her shuffle

his hesitation

her fixation

his motivation

her courage

his redemtion

to Monday callings

and thursday maulings

to Tuesdays lastness

and Friday’s madness

it stands.

It stands

as its voice goes unnoticed

its brick notes and

roof top melodies

linger a testiment

unspoken to the fortitude

of perserverance

and the suppliment of


For in these halls

little souls stand

and she makes sure

she never falters

never gives sway

for all the comings

and goings of a day

the black the blue

colbalt and shrew

madness and

due of tears

she stands.

For someday

when hands stop lingering

over plastered walls

and paint stops mending

the cracks and fall

ing spaces

when voices stop

and doors weld shut

she will be remembered

for the words

emblazoned on her skin


“Knowleldge is found

with open hearts, clasped hands,

and couragous spirits”



She stands.


Cerulean peace

mascarading verimuei of

persian plum bing

echoing in mind’s sky

like a gypsy moth

motorcycle gang,

looking for lightswitch

raves and hued

tinboxes of marmalade


speaking with

coquelicot tails of truth

and shipwrecked words

hung on springtail

shiz ogg ony’s

orange weighted thoughts.

I am stones set against the hills

Aztec black


pirate motorcades

worming through

otherworld roads

pillaging ghost hall verbiage

turbid mocking bird calls

in the hopes electric violet


glow brighter there.

There were my Oak tall darker

self waits patiently plotting

to feast on the Elder silver sung


of a golden aluminum mind.

Mint mingled with meaning


forks pushing straw braiding

creepping vines of

mental loops retracting and

reacting to the envolope

of time marching backwards

and spell crafted lines.

I am rythem

I am rhyme

I am london calling

Bell tower mourning

the loss of porcelian


book covered middles

and shoes sole mustered glory

I am walking low

and hiding uninvisible

fae almanac verses

I am color me chrystal

tranglewreck borders

laughing at the horders

of words in head

that bears a sign

flashing Red

open for business

but I

I having nothing to sell.

I am sour pill bitten

snakeless tooth smitten

electric force cork drumming

mental note strumbingover

Moroccan pyrogen

seducing ubiquitously

like a neruotoxin

in silky perfection

a glue tin ation

verilent in

the prusuit of


and calling the mice of fortunate

ransom to

stationary spilled out on

earthen green tables

laid to rest and memorialized

on sombre ink and ivory paper.

Lazy Days of Hope

Lazy days of hope

are on parade today

walking by with butterflies

and sipping cherry coke

they linger at the coffee shop

sit and pass the day in shade

these lazy days of hope go by

in morning risen haze.

They slip underneath hearths

and warm themselves by fires

cozy up with drifting dreams

and linger on with desires

they carry with favors

and promises of lighter scenes

smiling when you ask them

exactly what they mean

oh these Lazy Days of Hope

when the road is brilliant

bright and brave

I sit on this porch and ponder

them as they walk by

and wave.

{{just a silly little poem to get my day off to a poetic start. been a bit poetically challenged the last few days!}}

The mirror is broken [a haiku series]

The mirror is broken

edges separate my view

now I see both sides


The mirror is broken

the lines of communi’

cation match edges


The mirror is broken

like basho’s barn burning down

sight brings hidden truth



In other words …

my vision is changed when I see the world differently

how different is the world when I change. 🙂