Saturday, August 30, 2014


there is room
to reconnoiter

there is space
to meet as friends

does loiter

in the eyes
at either end

of a gaze
though isn't knowing

wants to take
the time to learn

to dance slowly

lest left feet leave
deep impressions.

on second thought,
twelve word poems
just might be
more user friendly!

No Expectations

in love
it is the fall
that is itself

returned affection
which sours
the gentlest
of glides

There's Never Time

there's never time for what we say we love
the scribing of the odd poetic line
the run or bike or swim without a shove
perfection of a recipe sublime

consumed with work and keeping of the things
which, truth be told, turn owners into owned
and all the bloody paperwork that sings
in bureaucratic archives filed and zoned

the things about the things which we adore
how easily the meta draws us in
to languish in a state which we abhor
a telescoping corridor of sin

but truly, does the clock run out too fast
don't know, can't say ... I've got to cut the grass

Friday, August 22, 2014


The cusp of freedom beckons
as you gaze on new horizons.
the anchor of familiarity
compels no more

The richness of your presence
and the present of your love
are gone forever from the ones
who's presence you abhor.

They didn't recognize the treasure
while it dwelled within their
they didn't see the light which banished
darkness from their eyes and lips

My fondest hope is for
the new horizons that you see
to be within the sphere
which limits my reality

Perhaps the gray malaise
will find itself transported
to the realm
from whence
you came.

Inspired by a g+ post by Uma Venkatraman

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Swimming in the Night

Shedding awkward like a shell
the water proffers grace
as in the darkness I command
a confidence I lack on land

to dive and float with faith
that I have found an element
with which my skills and strength were meant to
merge in like a second skin

darkness rends invisible
as does aquatic skill
so many that I swim about
imbued with fear, filled with self doubt

they thrash and churn and tense
their trouble puts them in plain sight
relief naught but a touch so light
turning panic into dance

dancing has inherent risk
intent misunderstood
leads to rejection out of hand
from one more comfortable on land

afloat once more adrift
reflect on path to better end
reconnoiter as a friend
curiosity remains

recognition slowly dawns
proceed, but without haste
for swimmers on the land may drown
they thrash and churn, appear unsound

need naught but a light touch
to gain some poise, some small insight
that worlds are different that's all right
every one merits respect

chastened floating in the sea
I dream about the shore
how to approach a second chance
perhaps a very simple dance or

collaborative verse
from common prompt each work should spring
exchanged interpretations bring
a meeting of both heart and mind

Monday, August 4, 2014

Schoodic Dragons

The chuffing Dino flagellates
meander in the fog
their last meal's song reverberates
inside cavernous maw
and through intestinal tunnels
before the bowels they reach
ejected as effluvia
their stench does fairly reek

reminding us that in the gray
recesses of our minds
the dragons linger quietly
abiding eon time
until the morning fog off shore
blankets the working boats
and gives them perfect portal
to the world of sea and smoke

so do sit still on rocks ashore
when fog's upon the sea
attend the solemn calving
in a silent reverie
lest with some noisy expletive
effluvia you'll be

Tender Darkness

Tender will the darkness be
when you at last submit
full of exquisite agony
so patiently applied

each gentle stroke
and firm caress
move toward the precipice
then hesitate ....
and draw away
to languish just a bit.

while on the edge
you quiver
soon to beg for sweet release

and in the fall the darkness roars
before the blessed peace
when satisfied you crawl away
where you can lick ...
your wounds.

inspired by an Eric Albin g+ post

Cherished Darkness

The dark and I, we share the closure
and the space to breathe.

To be the unexpected guest
eliciting a chilled response
though perspiration springs
on upper lip and clammy palms
malodorous from stress.


Being in the dark provides
a sense of fortitude and power
until that unseen, callused hand
just brushes on your cheek
turning tables ... sweetly
making predator the prey!

inspired by a g+ post by D. W. Metz