Saturday, October 24, 2015


reaching where i shouldn't
for delights i cannot have
promises implied spread damage
where there should be salve
despite the cold reception
i can't tear myself away
hoping beyond reason
for a sign that i may stay
and at least pretend
to share a dream

© 2015 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved 

Saturday, October 10, 2015

late autumnal lament

with fading sun
my hands grow cold
no respite save
my morning coffee mug

cold hands 'til spring
which through the night
earn little more
than recoil of my love

©2015 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

Inspired by a g+ post by RC deWinter

Saturday, October 3, 2015


language is the stuff of thoughts
an ocean wild and free
in which immersed we swim or drown
both beautiful can be

some are content to stand on shore
and watch the roiling waves
majestic or just ripples
voyeurs of the written page

others choose to architect
to fashion vessels proud and true
conveying stories and ideas
emotional milieu

prose is a sturdy surface ship
of capable designs
afloat upon the sea of words
in weather rough or fine

propelling precious cargo
navigating between ports
always floating and upright
through sea states of all sorts

frigate schooner or canoe
designed and purpose built
short story novel biograph
if architect is skilled

in laying strong a keel of words
supporting her main theme and plot
on frames of sentences complete
which make up chapters of this yacht

but still as awesome are these ships
and literary boats
they ply the surface of the sea
conveying what she wrote

while leaving volumes unexplored
dimensions still untapped
the depth of ocean down below
for surface ships a trap

for this a vessel more complete
a ship that's free to soar
in darkness to the pressured realms
and yet return to shore

submerging in the sea of thoughts
evoking all there is to see
and feel with subdued elegance
that vessel's poetry

cadence rhythm and the shape
the meter as words flow
let slip the bonds of interface
and open worlds below

architects who wield these tools
with grace have practiced long
to shape their words with subtleties
akin to dance and song

that poet's vessels dance and sing
more than word's meanings there to see
the elegant complete design
draws me to poetry

© 2015 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved