Monthly Archives: August 2013


Heart between the keys expressed
as elegant hands and fingers rest
among the ebon and ivory stays.
Soul released and softly dressed,
that through the music all’s confessed
and to the ether Elena plays.

The sheet before her longs her eye,
yields to her in black and white
yet dreams adagio dreams of bliss.
So folds a chord across the time,
fermata graced beyond the rhyme,
each note a sensual kiss.

The keys in pensive motions bend
to catch the passion her fingers lend
to every subtle stroke of heart.
Each note in reverberation rolls
and carries captive with her soul
the tender love in every part.

She knows no hesitation,
her elegance dressed in no disguise.
She plays her inspiration
and shares her heart through sweet reprise –
and so Elena plays.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

This Silent Brook

Sit beside this silent brook
where time has claimed
two lovers’ flame.

Listen to the hush of trees
whose whispers calm
the past long gone.

Feel the passion’d moment stir
a silence in the air for her.
Hear two hearts in pounding quake
this very spot, this true love’s stake!

Scant the whispered grey rolls on
between the then and now.
Faint the temporal echoes ring
and to this present bow.

Sit and draw it in
till thin your question grows.
Trust your heart, have courage,
until it’s yours whose true love shows.

Hold this moment felt here,
keep it close to mind and heart.
Grasp this time, this present,
and to the temporal so impart
your love…


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

This Dance

Across the shadows time pervades,
oe’r the chasms challenge,
against the wind and rocky glade,
and of the times’ bleak balance –
‘Tis soulful love endures the test,
‘tis two in love as one,
‘tis what we have that makes us best
to find us here in lea’s sweet sun.

Where now, today, tomorrow, bliss!
Just stuff of dreams our yesterday,
together upon a loving kiss
we stand in strength to stay.

No bribe to crossing shall we pay,
no altered step here showing.
Our strength is with each other’s stride
and all we hold is knowing
that ours is not a love of dust,
nor a temporal happenstance.
Ours is bound in deepest trust
that brings eternal music’s dance –


Filed under Poetry, True Love

A Poet’s Ride (aka the Penny Horse)

What sets the place of commas
as from this fluent pen does fall?
What strokes the pause in thinking?
What dries the ink past question’s call?

Who pokes the sudden image
into the static matter, grey?
Who sets the syllables in line there,
before the truth, as hand paints lay?

Who feeds the silent horses
in wait to craft an image dear?
What stands the milk to crème
that brings the poet’s thoughts to clear?

When is that time for writing
where eyes watch hand take pen to task?
What time is it when landing ink
colorfully paints a recalled past?

How can it be these diverse things
call summing into moment’s hold,
that in one fractioned second spin
scant letters into gold?

Who is the muse of ethos
that keeps the meter bound to clay,
so guides the subtle shaping of
the image felt and cast to lay?

Here are my moments stolen
when from my day my pen takes hand.
Here is the wild ride, in crafting
what I know not comes to band
the ether’d thoughts in floating,
the melding of what’s known, unknown,
the growing of a story
from the clips of life my past has shown.

I ride without a payment,
no penny here have I,
but cast my journey sacred
and never think to wonder why.

This is my blessing, this is my curse,
and tho’ I ride with empty purse
I feel the gift is gold!
… and selfishly I’ll return to ride
until I’m just too old.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Family Memory – a Prayer

How quiet is the lonely wood
where ‘midst these markers lay –
How lonely are the steps between
the graves of those I walk today –
How peaceful is the summer corn
around this church’s graveyard stands.
How steadfast this emotion seems
When pen’d from living hands –

At rest and peace I find thee,
silent ‘neath the clustered trees –
With truth and love I bless thee,
while praying from my knees!


Filed under Family, History, Memory, Poetry

Write O Poet! Write!

Stand O King, amidst the hoard, drop your face, your shield, your sword. Draw a longer night for two, dance in pheromone candle hue. Scent and wring the shadow long, twist her limbs about yours strong, carry her sweet, carry her wrong, but stand O King! Stand!

Sing O siren, sing in chaste, scowl the horrid haggard face of time in etch upon the scene, drive a tear, a drop be seen. Cast the spell of hopelessness, sort the weak from what’s confessed and Sing O siren! Sing!

Stand O courage to what prevails, stand against the cries and wails of wanton, death and plunder, stand to rend the hate asunder, burn the last of love from you, but stand O courage, stand! Fight true!

Weep O mother, cry what comes, know the son you love is gone. Mourn in silent deafened sobs, deny the jeers, deny the mobs a single hint of fear. Weep O mother dear.

Come O mercy beyond this day! Peace be granted, let some hope stay and find the simple tinker, smile on the lane, drive the sunshine, push the rain, but come O mercy! Defy this pain!

Write O poet, bard’s tale be known of how a hatred here was sown. Draw your ink in blotted haste, and from it pour a lay that tastes of love and courage, fear renounced, of battles won and hatred trounced. Sear the wetted tear drop tracks and sounds of mothers’ weeping slack. Draw lovers spirit lost at night, and courage to overcome with might by just a handful of free men left, cast the horrid face of death, but write O poet! Write!


Filed under History, Perspective, Poetry

Mountain Valley

Stretched across this mountain valley
and verdant sweeping slopes,
my soul relaxed in ether
bathes in nature’s loves and hopes.

Rich the forest floor in duff –
Loamy scent of fir and earth –
Harmonies on summer’s breeze –
Life whispered in the pine’s true worth –

Mountain meadow flowers bloom
in dreams of water colored hues.
A magpie perched as stoic guard
protects the “awe” ‘neath azure blue.

Through every tensiled fabric,
I sense this life, this current’s blood,
that into this I’m welcomed, drawn,
as soul and heart expand in flood.

Granite spired backdrop –
Sentient babbling brooks –
A pawing fawn yields a nod,
returns my loving looks –

Enraptured here, my spirit slain
by mountain’s giving life,
that I may see the thoughts of God,
and count this land my nature’s wife.


Filed under Mountains, Nature, Poetry, Universal Soul