Marooned melodies, isolated from truth’s ear

A leap of faith in search of a ledge, wanting the urge to fly

Side doors doubling as escape routes, slipping away unnoticed, dare I go

Followed unseen with each footstep, I hear them close behind

Memories of a Bamboo Forest

If I listen hard enough

The sway of leaves touch my ears

Streamed sunlight falls on me without divide

A walk through a slolam of shoots

A journey of curves of my own choosing

Pause, listen, remember

A lasting moment that returns

Just in time to level the balance and continue on

Sideways, I Find Myself

Sideways, I find myself

With tilted views through unfocused lense

As skies pour from glass pitchers, upwards they fall

Puddles form overhead, waiting for children’s feet to take flight and land, splashing laughter below

Memories spill, overflowing with yesterday’s faint scent

Rested foreheads gently lie on my shoulder, they’ve returned

Lingering for tomorrow, a reunion, never to let go again

Feathered Imprints

Long arms reach out, grasping at air

I am waiting, not knowing for what

Standing in the open, I look down and see my shadow has disappeared 

A sigh escapes, a flock of birds take flight where my breath left off

Fading small dots in the distance, they leave

Feathered imprints fall in their wake

And I’m left here wondering what is next, if anything at all

A Collection of Standstills

Seconds slowly cascading down burnt orange roof tops

Dry faucets, turned handles, waiting for life to flow

The smell of time passing, lungs filled with slow motion, a collection of standstills

A thin breeze meandering through the front window, finding it’s escape through the back door, a drive by greeting of sorts

Moments placed gently on a scale, finding balance once more

Waiting for the Gust

A freshly raked pile of autumn leaves

A dandilion, standing perfectly still on a hot summer’s day

A neatly stacked pile of papers, patiently sitting on the sill of an open window

A struck match, a single flame, a thin string of rising smoke

A cloud of thoughts that trail my every step, my shadow

All waiting for that one gust to blow them away 

Pale Horses Run, Chasing Heaven into the Fray

Ashen skies, looking on from above

Promise’s last drops filling broken harbors, losing one drip at a time

Missing pieces collecting at water’s edge, a collection of myself

Glassy reflections appearing topside, turbulent currents flowing below


Eternity’s fields, quiet and vast, lay still in waiting

Red circles, pale horses run, chasing heaven into the fray

A hand breaks parting clouds, finds me, safety lying in creases, hidden

Listening to the wind sing of second beginnings, a lullaby, an embrace for tomorrow’s new day