Monthly Archives: November 2014

November Dawn

I wake to greying dawn of day
as time stands still, suspended…
breathe November’s crisp and brown
edge of winds upended.

Westerly gusts, with gratitude,
turn my head to see the dawn
escape above the edge of earth
into the grey and covered morn.

Last slivers glint unto my eyes,
raise a spark of hope, I pray,
carry me beyond the waking,
pull me through another day,
calm in all life’s coming…


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

A Poet’s Wish (a Madman’s Dream!)

Along this fading line of time, along this simple thread of life
that speaks so strong to what I write,
that calls to me, that calls to me…
Here my purpose pulled in rhyme, here my pen becomes my wife
that beckons lays to what is right,
that sings of me, that sings of me…

For I know no other reason in answer to the “wheres” and “whys”…
I know no time of season that stills or strokes the errant tries!
I know that only tempests call within my soul to write it all!

As every dew drop glistens in every moment’s pause, I listen,
‘til sweet the strong confusion reigns, until my thoughts, and pen, sustain
some moment captured, acquiesced beyond the simple thoughts confessed.

Here, in time’s sweet undulation, here in moments caught from you,
I do that which was meant to be,
to sing of thee, to sing of thee…
As moments ebb in transformation, poised through life yet fading, true,
I write of what you let me see,
and raise to thee, and raise to thee…

For life is living’s reason in answer to the “wheres” and “whys”…
Life is born of treason, for in the end we all must die!
But by the tempest’s raging call, it’s life that stakes the stays to all!

The dew upon the rose’s crest defines the truth of living’s best!
In honey sweet of summer’s rain my lays will live beyond my gain
to leave a blessing’s hope for all, as whispered from your kindest call.

To hope, to dream, … to pen it all!

(note – if anybody asks, the “you” in reference is life!)


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Southern Pine

Now the southern pine recedes
in hushing stir past autumn’s morn,
bends each bough in gratitude
as winter’s rush, in distance, born.

She stands beneath the luscious pine
upon a trail where few have stood,
yet few who have engraced this path
hold history here, within the wood.

As evening sun withdraws,
leaving shadows hazed and long,
the voices from the solitude
tell the tale and sing the song…

Where soldiers passed beneath these trees,
when to the call they raised their heads,
where four years later passed again
returning home, both live and dead.

Here is told the memory
of summer hearts’ escape to love
that manifested romance
beneath the fir and pine above.

Here the whispered story sings
in soulful mourning, life’s despair,
where aging brought the hearse to pass
en route to family plots somewhere.

Here a quiet tune is stretched
for poet’s pause to draw it in,
who by this wood found solace,
who brought it to the page and pen.

For here the path so few have trod
has relished in its history,
by forest musk and dim decay
has carried life’s sweet mystery.

She stands beneath the alpine boughs,
upon this path in silence poised,
witness to the whispered calls
that sing in history’s pains and joys.

As the sun sinks lower
and shadows stretch across the wood,
she gently bows before the pines,
here, where long they’ve stood.

So to home she turns in peace,
grateful for this sweet release,
thankful for the moments there,
small, beneath the southern pines,
engraced within their care.


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Winter’s Vale

Upon this gilded crest I stand
where winter’s dancing dress adorns
the regal length of dale below,
skirting foothills, neatly worn.

A split rail fence, in signature,
defines a wild and aging seam
that hems this ageless beauty,
proposing hope, exposing dreams.

Coyly courting winter comes,
dressed in softened white and grey,
shy and timid tucked behind
the granite range and soft woods fray.

Yet the valley stands unmoved,
flirtations feigned unnoticed there,
coaxing slowly winter’s sum
to speak in cooling wisps of air.

Between the knees of foothills rolls
a slow progression, crystal white,
gathered low across the vale
caressing with a love, a light.

Above the hush approaching,
the sky recedes in charcoal black,
wraps the moment’s solitude,
granting solace, stealing back.

Winter finds its bolder self
and rises to a bitter howl
that bursts in sudden hemorrhage
of driven snow and gusty growls.

How innocent here the valley lays,
silent in the storm,
subdued in gathering crystal white,
enrobed as winter’s wife, and warm.

I deny my presence
to the sensuous play beyond my stance,
chased from this my borrowed perch
to let this moment’s pleasure dance
and let this moment turn,
where what the season’s changing brings
is what this vale so deeply yearns.


Filed under Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

The Spectre

Another own for Halloween! Enjoy!


Softened shadows follow me
between the temporal poles of light
as dawn is echoed hauntingly,
reflected in this dusk, this night.
Yet heartfelt scent
on whispers lent
does bathe each silent moment spent,
that stands me breathing sparingly
amidst this hallowed fright.

The footsteps in the corridor,
in pensive creaks and strain,
bear the question still once more,
“who’s there?” in feared refrain.
The words once said
drift overhead,
thus beckon moans from one long dead,
that freeze me at the bedroom’s door
in pounding heart and vein.

Long the silence holds me still,
afraid to move or breathe,
as courage seeks to gain my will
and from this frigid posture leave.
Yet curiously held
by what befell
the one who moans beyond death’s knell,
I wait in silent pause until
I hear the voice in heaves.

Tis time immortal spent in haunt,
a penance price, my dues,

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