Category: Poetry

I Am Not a Robot

I have traced moon’s polished alabaster form afar with trembling fingers, I have cast tear-soaked letters into rainy streets, watched them swirl down sewers, I have been hypnotized by Erato’s stare, in crystal pools I have reciprocated these traits of a hungry heart with volumes of sighing words sown into mirrors and patiently listening night dead-fish eyes perched upon rococo facades are warning beacons, … Read More I Am Not a Robot


“A ‘mistake’ is being ignorant of the facts and/or outcome. ‘Careless indifference’ is being aware of the facts and/or outcome and simply not caring. Regardless, innocent people suffer. Being ‘human’ is not a malady, it’s a responsibility hallmarked by maturity and emotional intelligence.” -Michael J. Donnelly

Invocation to autumn

  I have stared out a window for hours as summer bowed its head at October rain, at banana-yellow leaves glistening, tumbling in slow-motion sighing with nature as autumn overcame, as wraiths sorrowfully caressed withering roses with bony fingers, as ravens sang hymns but my soul changes always, it puts on a worsted cloak grey and speckled brown a page turns slowly, as though … Read More Invocation to autumn

Yes, I Would Mourn

Should you die I would lament to the wind tearing at my clothes cursing the darkness for taking my light for a short season there would be not one iota of joy, smiles would be banished my pillow would certainly remain damp there would be a spiritual battle within, fitful dreams stark awakenings and fist-clenching prayers for strength until the storm passed I would … Read More Yes, I Would Mourn

A Foreshadowing

I saw an ebbing portent in clouds over the peaks, a blur of rain falling with gray tendrils and august sighed wraith winds blew from the north I rubbed my face as a man long in the tooth thinking of lustful summer days gone. September will blink and autumn will sashay in like a boisterous gypsy spreading wafts of sage there will be burnt-orange … Read More A Foreshadowing

Autumnal Nocturne (Kyrielle)

    Bleed spirit, into bronze-tinged night! Lift me above chiffon clouds height To whirl and whirl amongst moon’s glow, Melding with the crisp gold tableau. And Luna’s breath will fill my sails Or perhaps November’s brisk gales! Brushing tall tops of the willow, Melding with the crisp gold tableau. Carry me, carry me aloft, With a Northern gust’s robust ‘waft!’ To soar with … Read More Autumnal Nocturne (Kyrielle)

This Faulted Shell: passing

  I grasped it in a daydream moment breathing in and out bright vignettes blurred one into another almost teasing of course, there were tears but not mine soft fingers caressed hoary thin flesh of my hand I felt trembling lips kiss mine and…          

And Yet You Shine

A zither descant rides wind through the trees, Clouds pirouette like maidens in chiffon, Summer’s hot day allows night to appease On a lake, moon-glow highlights a lone swan. On snow-topped mountains, on drifting sand dunes Piercing the darkest forests with your beams, A grand mood setter for lovers and loons You even preside in most of our dreams. Oh, ancient bright orb that … Read More And Yet You Shine

Ireland (Kyrielle)

It called to me with siren song, With unseen grasp it pulled me strong In dream its verdant hills were showed. Across the jade green isle, I strode. Took hours to travel there by air And sweet it was like luscious pear, From Dublin to south Cork I rode. Across the jade green isle, I strode. The folk were friendly chatty types, Many preferred … Read More Ireland (Kyrielle)

Our Unspoken Canon

When this imperfect world tilts we roll the other way grasping one another’s hand regal, like a Da Vinci painting and life is our canvas on which we splay rich colors of our souls we have stopped the sand flowing for time is of no import rapt in these crystal moments magnified we worship our love, we adorn ourselves in Eden’s glory on this … Read More Our Unspoken Canon

Concrete and Silk

I. I’ve lain on both when I did not care the difference numb, dispirited, saddle leather calloused as though I had journeyed many miles with no smiling faces to greet only to collapse on a post-apocalyptic beach staring at a sun draped in the miasma of hades. II. Where does spring rest during winter’s breath-stealing occupation, where are the seeds of hope stored? I … Read More Concrete and Silk

Reaching For the Stars: The Creator’s Approving Nod

As children, we sat around bonfires telling ghost stories, our screams drifted and lifted glowing embers that much higher   we fashioned bows and arrows, climbed oak trees to dizzying heights scrapped our knees, felt the angst of puppy-love…   a dizzying journey from there to here stumbling countless leagues, scars and heartaches are badges and sagas, I’m a bit worse for wear a … Read More Reaching For the Stars: The Creator’s Approving Nod