Soft Winter Wind (a poem)

You called me over the airwaves
I had nothing to reply
Golden light bathed my face
Amid soft winter wind like
Time frozen in the seasonal cycle

I heard your sweet voice call,
But I could not answer
I needed my solitude

Don’t we all need time alone
To regenerate the parts of ourselves
Crowded out by madness?

(Photo by Spurwing Agency on Unsplash)

Let Me Have This Final Dance (a poem)

The smell of your fragrance ignites me
Pulls me closer to your secret self
Those inner energies you keep
From the eyes of the visible world
The energy swirls around inside you
It has me locked in an ecstatic trance
Come, take my weather-beaten hands
And let me have this final dance

We’ll dance for the moon and stars
We’ll kiss under rays of light
We’ll dance and hide our scars
We’ll agree to never take flight
From each other, you’re like no other
I’ve ever seen or been with

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Serendipity (a poem)

The problem with sorting out
These probabilities is that
I’ve excluded serendipity

Sometimes, there’s no way
To explain the random chance
Of meeting long-lost loves
Crowded together on street corners

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Depression is a Liar (a poem)

Depression is a liar
It tells me nasty things
These negative thoughts I acquire
And the despair it brings

But my friends always say
This too shall pass
Though it’s wretched today
I faintly see a half-full glass

When I feel disconnected
Not much seems to help
I’m not sure what I expected
Or when it will stop

Music is my healing balm
And so is my writing
They help me stay calm
With the negativity I’m fighting

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Holy Endeavor (a poem)

There’s a battle going on
Inside the minds of men
Some of us are pawns
Some of us are kings

The battle is eternal
A duality of dark and light
On earth it’s a rehearsal
For the glory of the afterlife

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Shadow Footsteps (a poem)

Underneath the cold, hard ground
I found the key to my soul
And I praised the gods of winter
Who enjoy the dead trees
And fallen leaves that rustle
Like shadow footsteps

In dark nights of lore
The high priests were astounded
By the teenage Jesus
No one believed us
When we saw him heal the blind men
In the sticky subway station

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Pictures in Storybooks (a poem)

The certainty of seeing your face
When I arrived in the hidden place
Was gone forever in a split-second
Head down on the table like
You were sleeping, an eternal rest
Great sadness in the center of my chest

Those days are gone now
Pictures in storybooks
Cemented in my mind’s eye
No need to cry any longer
Your spirit is forever with me

(Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels)

The Devil Hiding in Plain Sight (a poem)

The searchlight found the devil
Hiding in plain sight
He has always been a vessel
For the children of the night

He sees me in my dreams
I can never quite escape him
Whenever I go to scream
He peels off my skin

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