The poet’s heart…

The poet’s heart…

white paper
Photo by Pixabay on

I would like to believe in the better things.  I would like to always have faith in the human spirit but with expectation is sown the inevitable poison of disappointment.  So I guess I am saying I am a fool because I do hold on to these things… like true love.  My logic tells me one thing but my poet’s heart holds on to dreams.

“awake” 3/2018

may you be the blunt tool

on which I hone

sharpen once again my lust for life

far too long

I have endured

my true self

hidden in this prison, in plain sight for all

curled away, bathed in my shadows becoming my skin

growing rusty, creeky and gray,

your voice has brought me simply back

to the light of day.

Embers 2” 3/2018

there is a faint pulsing ember

locked deep inside the remnants of my heart

and memory

never more to catch flame

but your vision remains

I know, until my dying days

absent kiss upon solitary lips

my last breath

a faint whisper of your name

and the glow shall fade

into the evernight.

gliding” 3/2018
staring through the veil

of rain drops on the windshield glass

no consciousness of driving


traveling along this line through space – time,

unable to reverse

and mend

the mistakes of our parting

on which I dwell


untitled” 3/2018
I am not a mirror

I only have my eyes

for they are just mere filters

to the visions

built up constructs of my mind
I want to be with you

when you are seventy

wrinkled and gray

for I will only see

the most beautiful woman there has ever been

as forever you will be


she is afraid of photographs

as to my disbelief

her true image self portrait

hangs upon my wall

as I pace the corridors

but more-



with eyes closed (deep breath, exhale)

together my love


together, my love, my eternal love.

Musical accompaniment … King’s X “Honesty”
No whimsical thoughts for today, come back and I am sure I will be in the mood.

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