Archive for January, 2014


To see a figure of once great presence
Lost within the cavern of her own mind
Unable to distinguish stranger and blood
No names or faces from all her time
Her frail form covered but all too clear
What years have ravaged not left untouched
Sunken in depths beyond that of reach
Eyes peer out but see not much
As strong and loud as the fiercest storm
She ruled a home for all her life
Now as the years may cease to pass
Those memories lost but not by choice
The day will come and it wont be long
That she is freed from caged soul
No longer lost without being aware
That mother, that wife, the granny I know





The Morning Hours

Step from the shadows into the dark
Fear not the unknown or blackened heart
Will can be strong with senses dulled
Sharpened and tuned from seemingly null
Take back the corners avoided at night
Remember that beauty can be worth the fight
Pools so pitch they reflect the moon
In tune with surroundings you wish you knew
From hours in the day with brightness cast
Dread diminished to forgotten past
Bring forward that time when all is still
Walking from shadows to darkness at will
If nothing stirs and the dark remains quiet
In the morning hours I find the peace I require




The Flaw

You saw a flaw and made it clear
In your eyes it would not stand
It has no place within your world
This weakness you saw in a man

To have a heart placed on my sleeve
And wear it as I always do
To show emotion of all kinds
Is only frailty in your view

That flaw you see but don’t understand
Is not my weakness but my strength
When all else with in me fails
My heart will ever beat again

I’ve yet to find its limit
The point at which it breaks
So take my flaw and ask one thing
Is it my strength that you hate




Little Black Box

When looking for the future
Should you ever start in the past
Or leave what was ever buried
In the boxes where you saw it last

To see the image that was only thought
May just shake a sure conclusion
Once consigned to vaulted memory
It’s flickering glow a mere illusion

Looking when it is easier to turn away
Will show what light memory has diminished
Cast away shadows so long unseen
With vision cleared of darkened finish

The question “why?” set above a picture
Now rests upon several more
A little black box for years left sealed
Presented images I still adore




The things we dream





The things we dream
Are not cages that bind
They are what we should be
And all hope to find

Only on waking
When dreams linger on
Can they truly live
And let us become

But to draw breath
Bring the dream to life
There is always a choice
Some kind of sacrifice