Monthly Archives: July 2016

The Vengeance of the Clouds

Silent observer through the mist,

droplets of clarity distort the reality.

By sunbeams, superficial colours kissed,

the fog within that lets us be.

Touched gently, barely felt at all,

caressing air and the entrapment of blindness.

A helpful cry, a haunting call,

the vengeance to finally rest.

The Dragon and the Butterfly

The dragon scales across the moss,

tossing his painted tail.

Harnessing his fiery breath inside,

waiting to exhale.

The butterfly dips and flies along,

thoughtless of the beast.

Silently as the colour flies,

keeping it’s quiet beat.

Each his own destiny,

intertwines they remain.

Waiting unknowingly to be touched,

somehow they are stained.

Colour blends with fire,

as silence is consumed by noise.

One extinct without the other,

each remains as poised.

The dragon and the butterfly,

two as one unite.

Forever connected, forever apart,

together in their plight.


Daddy place your hand upon my head.

Brush away the torments and the shame.

Your hands sit weighted.

Calloused and bruised beside my porcelain flesh.

Please daddy remember your children.

Those you helped revive,

and take hold of any feelings

which don’t in hatred flame.

Not another glass escape,

which leads to tempers sparked.

And torturing in absent love,

a child who know no joy.

Edna Snead’s Pancreas

Through the islet of the eyes,

past the backward view

into the blood and memory

the images once flew.

To enter that which never sees,

tapping into the sap.

The chemicals which so dormant lie,

powerfully unwrapped.

So few will be allowed;

as Edna Snead now is –

To reach beyond the grips of time,

the wings of flight it pins.

Now passed by her in silence,

the feeling soon is gone –

uncontrolled, will it return?

To see what no one saw.

Lover of words

Words like scorned lovers taunt me;

whispering in dark places on dark days.

Gnawing slowly at what fragments remain of my mind.

Constantly repeating, growing more insistent –

nearly shouting!

Appeasing them only in the moment of silence when I can let them run their course.

Their satisfaction is fleeting – coupled with torment;

as they scurry about their duties, unraveling what

remains of me.

Passionate voices driven by the desire to be emptied upon this blank page –

Using me, adoring only as their purpose is fulfilled and then –

Quickly and quietly tip toeing out the door.

Cold and forgetful – satisfied in their retreat.

Calling upon me with vicious affection in these weak moments.

Desire giving me purpose and unable ignore their advances.

And yet we are symbiotic.

They are no more animate then this page allows – then my hand allows.

Vengeful only in my obsession to stifle them – to use them as they have used me.

I will let them have their way with me, with this tired pen

And then –

Once more sit idly hoping to feel the warmth,

the soft glow of passion fulfilled.



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Gently rocking in rhythmic orbits

dancing pantomime upon the wooden beam

lemon silk exploding sits

life hiding in slow decay seems –

once again so alert

awake in the noontime glow

as if at once to assert

that what now reaps, soon must sow.

Little Grey Squirrel

Busy little rodent.

Quickly passing by on some greater quest.

Are you searching for a lost friend,

a mate, a meal?

You seem so determined.

Unaltered by screeching tires, potential predators,

or obstruction.

I envy such purpose, such certainty.

A simple life of survival.

Perhaps you are not so different from us all?

Intelligence may not be such a blessing.

It allows us the ability to question our actions.

Doubt, mourn, long –

The simplest tasks made complicated;

partnered with guilt and remorse.