Poems

  • We Are The Poets

    We are the poets. The ones who listen to the bones of the earth. The ones who feel the wind, who know the wind, who are the wind. The bridge to the aching quiet. We build it and we travel… Continue reading

  • How Is A Rose To Grow?

    A rose to meet the morning bright, to grow in cheer, to gather life. Yet day to day the rose does wither, day to day the rose does wither, lost beneath the foggy dreary. Lost. Beneath. How is a rose… Continue reading

  • Love

    It is a beautiful thing to know love. To feel it burning, aching, glowing; how I have known love is as small as an hour born of its grand, magnificent day. I have loved in many ways. Is there a… Continue reading

  • She

    I am the wind, and she is the earth that knows me. Continue reading

  • Alleyways

    Slinking down alleyways, thrilled by the rippling dark. Black upon white, cold stone. Daisies tilt their heads: smile. Axes bite into crimson bone, dwelling in the corners of the corners. Pure. Devilish. A curious mix. Grace breathes life into fire.… Continue reading

  • The Day Moon

    When the day moon shines from its blue morning home, I reach into the quiet and feel once again the tender, sweet moments of yesterday.   Continue reading

  • Twinkle, Twinkle

    Twinkle, twinkle little light shine on me your beauty bright. Hold me gently, love me dear show me I have naught to fear. Twinkle, twinkle little light sing me through the darkest night.   .     Continue reading

  • The Stars Inside

    The human might do well to remember that the body is an instrument which can only be played perfectly by the stars that live inside of it.     Continue reading

  • Wildling Feet

    Wildling feet have danced too long in the forest of evergreen, waiting for the leaves to change and fall.     Continue reading

  • Home Is Where The Heart Is

    My heart lives inside of me. Dearest, home. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.     Continue reading