Tuesday, October 25, 2011


In a clearing in the woods, two brothers fight.
They ram each other, wrestle with their pointed crowns.
The winner gains the power and the right
To rule their father's ancient, sylvan grounds
And will have the favor of the fairest doe.
So they lock their antlers, tearing from the start.
The loser has to face the snows alone.
A solitary creature is the hart.
But come the winter, brothers lose their crowns
And in the spring the hope for better years abounds.


The lustre of your silvery eyes
Outshines the winter waters, cold
And has a cool, familiar air
That only snowy blankets hold.
Safe and soothing, blue like ice
That glistens on a glassy lake
In mid-December while at home,
That's showered in white, snowy flakes.

The majesty of winter storms,
The power in the blizzard, white,
Is there, behind those frosty panes
And reveals an inner might.
That cool, familiar, soothing air
That only snowy blankets hold
Is well protected by this gale
When circumstances need you bold.

The powerful, majestic storms,
The blizzards in their wintry might
Are safe and strong, are reassured
By one unfailing, snowy sight.
The mid-December time at home,
The water tucked in glistening flakes,
Reflected in your ice blue eyes
Is soothing, cool, like glassy lakes.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


You can't be rough with mice.
If you are, she pays a price
For putting you inside her trust.
She must not see your smile is naught but dust.
So while you have your rowdy fun,
She wants to cower hide or run
Toward her safe and cozy place,
But mice can't outrun dogs and tomcats in a chase.
But you don't care, or you don't see
She's given all her heart to thee.
And so you bat, and paw, and chew,
Because mice are not as strong as you.

You must be strong for a mouse,
And build a safe and steadfast house
Inside a proud and sturdy chest,
On which she might just place her head and rest.
But you don't care, or you don't see
And with you, mouse is never free.


It's a scary thing, to do.
A frightening thing, to act.
Sometimes it's hard to follow through,
And so you wait in bed, compact.

Beyond that door, there is a world of hurt
And the bed is safe and warm,
But on the chair is your coat and big-boy-shirt,
And you have to face the storm.

Sometimes, at night, you see the stars,
You feel the sky is raining fire
While the dull, electric rush of cars
Makes you wish you don't aspire
To freedom
And to love.  Be bold,
And seldom
Will you feel old.

Let the comets grace your skin.
Let the wind caress your hair
And follow down your spine and in
Your chest, and breathe away despair.

Face the lightning on the road
And the fury in the stars.
Leave the safety safe at home.
Give yourself some battle scars.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Slow Burn

There's a slow burn.
It starts off as an ember.
First it keeps you warm,
And it's a fond thing to remember.
But it grows.
The air heats and expands
Inside your chest,
And starts to ache, and shake your hands.
Then it slides into your gut,
The thing that slowly burns,
And it writhes around inside you.
Oh it churns.
And at times it jumps.
When you least expect, it shifts.
It slithers toward your throat
And it finds your jaw, and lifts.
There's a thing that burns, so long and slow,
And hides the world in smoke,
And if you wait too long, it starts to sting
And choke.
So at times, you keep it secret.
Oh you hide it, this you learn
With the fear that if you free it
It will twist, and break, and burn.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011


When the North Wind blows, it howls, it blows
To toss my ship in frigid cold.
The icy wet does chill my breast,
And hardens hearts, both young and old.

When the East Wind Blows, it laughs, it blows.
Its mischief sends my ship astray.
What fancy fun the East Wind hums,
But leaves my charts in disarray.

When the South Wind blows, it screams, it blows.
Such stormy shrieks do scrape the rails.
This wind, with rain, brings numbing pain.
Its screeching voice could tear my sails.

But when the West Wind blows, it sighs, it knows
Its whisper, soft, will gain my trust.
And on voyage long, it sings its song
And gives my ship a gentle gust.

When the West Wind blows, it knows, it knows.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Earth Song

Sun, take me.
Earth, let me rest
And seep into your soil,
Your healing breast.

Morning Song

Be as a sweet nocturne to my ear,
Beautiful in nostalgic melancholy,
Or as a thorny rose, for fear
Thou should be plucked from memory
For thy odor. Moved to tears
Would I be if sweet incense
Were inhaled cheaply, for here
Unworthy senses give no recompense

And no reminder of vision seen.
Lost by waking breath
Like ethereal steam.
Your vibrant imagery, to death.
Oh sweet nocturne, oh passed dream.

A Midnight Song

And the shadows of the heavens
Hide Diana's brilliant face.
Their ethereal steams and skyward fogs
Do cloud her midnight grace.
At half past one I hear the night song,
But the sky is shrouded in this place.

The air, so chill to freeze my blood
With fear, does fail at its post,
For safe I am inside my coat.
Through blindness, I will feel the ghosts.

So in the trees I hear the steps
Of something midnight strolling.
I hear its feet tread on the leaves.
It should be gone, come morning.

I hear a song in howls around
As something wanders near me.
The light of night cuts through the clouds
But for a moment.  Then I see.

It's on this bright december night
Should something come a shining.
If weren't it for the sky's dark fight,
The moon would not be hiding.

Sea and Sky


If I should drape about my shoulders
The ancient, velvet shape of sky,
I'd show you all the shades of stars
And teach you constellations' cries.


Reflect, I would, your shifting grace,
And hold you, whether black or blue,
And on your best and cloudless nights,
Respond with all your solemn hues.


To dare to dance, to bet our lives
While we, the dark horizon host,
To mold that line, our one endeavor
And of our boldest virtues, boast.


So smooth, our sinews intertwine,
Supporting, sifting, sliding back
At midnight hours, free of the sun,
And left to roll in supple black.


To think I thought I loved the moon.
I've lost my lust for starry eyes.
I feel no fear of sunny skies.
I've fought my way through midnight lies.
To think, I thought I loved the moon.

The stars, outshone by golden fire,
Once made me drunk as cloudy night,
But now I see the brilliant light.
So now I quit, and will not fight
The stars, outshone by golden fire.

To think I thought I loved the moon.
In daylight now, I start to croon.
In warming rays, I start to swoon.
And to think,
I thought I loved the moon.