poetry & things


Night rain

It came softly warm, mist of fragrant showers

garden flowers of parchment petals

drank of sun, of moon, of rain

silent, the Perseid showers

a falling sea of rain.

My fate

These nights, this lonely space

blue or black, that starless looms

strange orbit pulls me to you

our misaligned planetary arrangement

spend my days ruled by the sun

but nights I trip, faint in a nebulous field

dream in colorful clouds of sighs, with you

tis’ only my fate, I can never escape

only linger under magnetic moons.

Under hypnotic skies

Here we sleep under star flowers

a flash of meteor showers

our room a fire light – full bloom

sigh and breath of moon

we travel nights like this

in a sky of sparkling jewels

swim and dream, float

in shimmering pools.

Traveling alone

Never run swift and away

leaving without words

never go fast my love, escaping on far off trains

only to ride all of your days, gone from me

arriving in places foreign and sad

left waiting empty

traveling ever lonely

on and on

Summer willows

Oh green I sing, of wings and birds across blue morning sky

with summer sounds, willows round the floating pond

dipping gently by.

Warm winds play music soft

through leaves and reeds, they sing

gathering in the transient breeze.

All the day I rest my head

breathe sweet the flowering fields

never shall I leave this place

nor want for any sweeter heaven.

Of sweetness in summer

In the garden, a bird, a flower

gold the edge, gold the dawn that hovers

a song of summer, a tiny sparrow perched

long upon the woody yarrow, that musky fills the air

a redolent warmly breeze, brushes by the maple trees

caressing sweet the singing leaves and breathes the air of heaven

in the gold of a halcyon summer

beyond the hills of sage, grey plumes

a stark blue sky cloudless looms

and sings with birds in lilting waves high above the field

they break the silence in a world transformed

a song – void of man’s ordinary words.


The mad allure

the bite, the cure

haste and taste of you

splendorous kiss

sudden slip, we drip

wet in rivulets

of sweat

Our flaming fire

swallowed by desire

a gathering storm

so calmly warm, just before

the fall, the come hither call

that pours and pours

drops of diaphanous rain

In the hallowed hills

When we were very far

and young, in a place with no roads to follow

only a winding path, a branch to grasp

a place to fill the hollow

Blue the summer, with drowsy daisies came

petals, petals, we drew circles round the sun

gold spun, our halo heads of pollen

gold the bees of sleepy flowers

amid clover grass heaven

Days we lived deep in hills

we were endless green, in unmapped countries

stretching past the farms afield, in other worlds

too far to see, we lived beyond the gray of days

and we were free, in the shining silver

of our hallowed hills of ever

Forest dawn

Where sleeps the crescent moon

and drifts bright stars away

to bring a song of light

glowing from a thicket there

where tawny birds take flight

or dappled in the wooded trees

foggy breathes the morning light

with rousing sounds of faeries there

drowsy in their dreaming cares

they bid farewell unto the night,

to stars that sail swift into the evanescent light.

Now springs another day from this woodland place

soft with mossy grays or starry lichen lace

green the leafy ferns will wake

with scented rains, wet upon the bark

incense cedars drift and swirl

sweet, the air of smoke

until alas the sun, so brilliant comes

from behind a clouded cloak

and disappears once more

the dawn that softly spoke.

Daydream in summer

Clouds, I drift upwards

lofty float with billowing, pillowy thoughts

to places high and heavenly sought

bathed in sun dappled warmth

see the greening leaves brought forth

fruition and flowery goals

some secrets of nature I can never know

see how days forever go

feel how summer encircles

my soul.

Tiger lilies

Lilies in the long grass

wild with tigers, striped orange

under trees, cool canopied

buds of sun blossoming

pretty cats slumber

sleek they dream

twitching whiskery

breathing slow

slinking low

as if to stalk

shock the

sallow moon

hunt and growl

purr and prowl

animal whisperings

stark the tiger lilies


The trouble with rain

How many times at this cliff, wild with winds

waiting for direction, even though storm clouds come

I look beyond, remembering the halcyon days

but today – rain, rain, rain

The night lilies

Tonight in this garden

a million flowers loom

clouds of gypsophila bloom

through our window and beyond

with fragrant vines, they sprawl

saturate scented paper walls

these night lilies, only a dalliance

that blooms and fades

your hands, my breath of sighs

we are drunk from dulcet wine

sung from the whisper of moon that dips

caress of your reddened lips

traveling this world

lilting softly slow

The first bird 2

I woke early to silence

but for the whirring of a fan

the stillness before dawn

I wrote these words

though they never convey

the pure heart of morning

pure the song of the first bird.

Only a storm

When you come home

bring forth a garden, a storm

all the colors of you

a flower petaled rain befalls me

a soaking, sweeping view

from mountains you come

calmly with rain

deep from earth’s core

sweet with petrichor

encircling softly warm

attracts me magnetically

stupefies me uncontrollably

though I know the killing hour

will come crushing, empty and forlorn.

Of peace

When peace comes curling up to me

comes to rest softly on a sweetest breeze

or in the cooing of a mourning dove

carries my aching soul far and gone

it comes in the soothing kiss of dawn

in the quiet clouds of red and orange

brief a fiery sky, consumes all the

troubles of this world.


This evening, with the wind

of my curtains breathing, I listen for night birds

watch the room grow pale

the finality of day, a nightly ritual

how skies reconstruct themselves over again

twinkle and murmur of stars

cynosure of all planets, even unseen

clouds like amnesia, hide things

our earthbound slipping away

of days lost irretrievable

If when you leave

If when you leave, you do not think of me

or do not call my name, then I will be a lost

and fallen star, diffused and drowned in

unforgiving seas. I will be restless on the waves

of my days, blind to all horizons

with dark stormy eyes

then only grey blinding fog

will settle in, descending

with smoke to kill, to choke

my dying heart.

How the soul moves

It must be a tricky business

it lingers, hovers stealthily

an invisible silence

a swift inhabitation

the soul awaits

to startle the body

In wordless voice

moves from room to room

turning lights on

spends a lifetime

ever longing

to be heard

Home again

When I returned home, after having been gone

I’d missed the fire orange poppies blooming

missed the lilacs too, it was early summer

time for bright and blossoming flowers

there is no place that fits me quite like this

no place I wear this smile, quite the same

I follow bees into the garden

I sing like morning birds

just to be home

hi coo (haiku)

high up in the tree

a lonesome feathery dove,

does he coo for love?


I find myself here, wild

roaming the long road home

to no one belong

Spend all of these days

together or alone

Survive the heave and cleave

the warp, the weave

of winding years

A lifetime, a spiral of




Evanescent life

This path of sandy footsteps, windblown and buried

this road contemplated, walked upon

the veritable green of a forest speaking

I come out the other side, bask in flower meadows naked

travel to summer seas, float the wild blue-greens

watch the wet sand, of footprints sinking

a nomad, windswept – my days of seeking

I see the watercolor sky, a painting in orange, red

soft feathery ferns, my bed, left to dream under

moon jeweled skies, indigo velvet nights

only to breathe the sparkling air

of this evanescent life.

Colors of day

Gathering colors of day

sea of green viridian, washing storms of grey

seagulls cry in shades colored blue

how mad the ocean’s raving tune

it sweeps away the end of day, a hopeful sun

to paint the sky of blackness

paleness of moon

rises, fades

beyond the sway

of silvery shades

night shimmers its way

into red and blue

where fiery clouds ignite

the day once more anew.

Cactus garden

Oh these doves, they are cooing crazy

a language full of sunrise colors

with a variance of blues, they coo

and soon the quails – laughing

the way they do, in their morning mood

smaller birds chirp and shrill

the air, melodic music filled

here amid this cactus garden

singing halcyon songs to the sun

and these flowers pale yellow

bloom high in the saguaros.


Wings they came at first, unknowingly

didn’t even feel them – a part of me

until you pulled the ground

the quicksand from my feet

breathed my sinking sleep


Wilted garden

It was shallow water, rippling

a watery moon quivering

on the surface seen

It was night fire

burning water into steam

gray smoke screened

It was willful drowning

upon a lily bed of lies

parched a wilted garden

slowly withers, dies

Truth (19w)

This sacred mountain

holds me ever close

this trail fat with hope

to whom I’ve finally

told the truth

Traveling at night

Redolent rain

steel train

streak of blue

racing through

night lands

rainy window

sallow moon glow

no reservation

nor hesitation

time to travel

some things

to unravel

go looking


my mind

drift into peace

float in my seat

high in the sky

sweet sighs

to feel again



there is

no plan


a dream


a dream

to feel

a life time

so surreal.

To know a flower

I looked into the center

into the circles of gradient color

the pollen, sun gold anthers

sepals green, holding close the petals

smooth stemmed, impossible heavy heads

beautifully in rings around trees

the honey sweet blossoming spring

busy with new born bees

that fly in fragrant dream

discovering lilies bright as sun

watching bees become one with flowers.

The green seas

The blossoming green seas

sometimes shines of two

wet, watery kissed

salt drenched lips

of burning steam

bodies unfixed

tangled into


The cruel stars

Alone, this time is slow

though for you faster, I know

out of reach, we do not touch

cannot speak of two

all day I only think in blue

climb these craggy trees

to hide myself away

lay in the seaweed sways

wait the night to swallow

my lonesome day

oh and then the cruel stars

the ones you named

appear, to shine

and speak of you

in vain

The breakaway

I sit here, brood

a twisted mood

think how

to forward move

how to undo

a tricky tightrope wobble

people pulling me

I cannot walk straight

need time to deflate

lose these traps

want to break free

of the need

want to find me

really love me

please go away

you cannot touch me

cannot know me

or go with me

cannot show me

anything I need

from you

I am the juice

the fire

the truth

the liar

you are reflecting

back to me

places I do not desire

I am feeling



of the price

I’ve paid

now is the breakaway

the reckoning day

no plane

no train

no half insane

free to go

free to assail

derail myself

from you

far and



From this island, water and more tiny islands

heavy treed with Douglas fir

landing ground to ocean otters

while orca whales glide by

spout and spray

the beach, broken shelled

puddled wells of tide pools

filling, spilling over again

brown bauble seaweed mingles

round algae rocks, barnacle shingled

here where the air breathes salt scented

water running wild with salmon

Only to Sing

Some say

she is lost to writing poems

snippets, little vignettes of beauty

so much nature inspired, obsessed

with green, botany driven desires

forever in skies, blue, or black with stars

meteor showers, falling, melting

like the liquid silver, red sea of mars

crashing waves, her days

tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry

there is no fault, in words

no shame to be made

would be a sorrowful price to pay

she is writing to find

some truths, a sleuth, a seeker

of going within, without doubt

writing to find herself

most days searching out signs of life

to feel what it would be like, to be

in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers

of garden lily bowers

to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal

climbing invisible ladders

in orchards of apple blossom Springs

to sing, sing, sing


Of wings

Walking this ground

we gather rusted remnants

pieces of a lifetime placed

within the hollows of our shoulders

and from the hardened blades

the bones, this is the place

where gorgeous wings

are formed

Iris in my garden

Iris, how you shallow breathe in winter

shiver under clouds, laid in a bed decayed and brown

your days cold in a garden, green and underground

long through all of winter

with spring only ever waiting

for the unfurling, color blue of you.


If wind

would have known

could have gone

another way around

if I had not been too soon, too late

to hesitate or let myself go – unbound

piled, buried too late to be found

if I’d not have stayed away far too long

yours would be a place

I still call home

Desert mountain

I think of mountains

the way they climb for the sky

losing their way through clouds.

Looking up, I never know if they reach the top,

or do they see me way down here?

Some kind of ant, I dig for rocks

a pocket full, turquoise blue

a miner for Apache jewels

exposed by red dust winds

as the day chips away

and carves a night

back into black


Dance of petals

These flowers

coronal quivers of gold

heavy headed they nod

sweeping sway of yellow

dancing white petaled

wild spring meadow

washes over me

bouyant in

a breezy


Bird in the clouds

How you flew, newly feathered

a fledgling falling from the sky

but upwinds sailed you far and high

carried you strong through clouds

winged and wild your arms

fingers running through

the updrafts of cold,

cool then warm.

Your drowning waters

In a drowning river I went – to swim

only a short while with you

the flail and falter of cruel water

caught in the reigning thunder

impossible to breathe when held under

yours was a killing lure to be sure

a death trap of words

but no steel cage can ever hold

a sky full of beautiful birds.

Wind of pining

Wind and dark the night I pine

stark the grasp of longing

branched and vined

blue mourning

deep in soul

an echo


When through my fingers

your hand slips

taste of your

fleeting kiss



Paper winged

when torn, I stutter, stammer

spiraling and falling

only in dreams softly sweet

once more a butterfly

brilliantly winging

When winter goes

When winter melts

footprints of mud, this path

now a screen of green

I cannot see, lost I listen for

calling words, the haunt of forest birds

cry, they call before the storm

deep a swell of rain pours

that wild, brings another Spring

mossy soft this budding floor

mist and petrichor that waft

attract, they meld and melt

sweet into the soul


I am waiting for the spring, the change

the variance of green

waiting for you, a fool

swim, I drown in this moon-pool

dark down a tunnel of night

I make my way by braille

only to touch, to see

a rivulet of rain

before the sun

that swells of red

and strays away

the day, a heart

that long ago


Until morning

This is the shadowed imprint, the trace left

ice melt and sea drift of time erased

soft-shod footfalls once apace

this ancient path we travel by

wild with beasts, fledgling trees

of downy wings

we cry, learn to fly

stay awake to see the night

how light penetrates

moon tangled through trees

our souls to illuminate

stars light the way

carry us ever further away

once per chance, never again

until morning

To float like moon

My heart a fevered pulse

haywire fuse of sparks

an ignition, a lock, a key

turns, follows, leads

In a world unknown

our days, sweet, slow

we glide, float like moon

glowing through trees

the shine of dream

here where the hours are slowed

here where one is left


The killing hour

With night, my love brings a paling flower

brings me full bloomed, a drenching petal shower

disheveled, falling to the ground

until our colors run out

the burst and shatter

delightfully tattered

the killing hour

he brings

The first bird

Early, this silent earth

in the stillness before sound comes

before the sky, the narrow line of light that forms

my ears not yet attuned to this world

search for noise, waiting for the first bird

then soon a chiming bell of birds

a cactus wren that comes to drink of sun

or deeply sweet, the air with mourning doves

that woo and coo before the dawn

a soothing balm, a bliss that fills my head

Spring skies

This valley, belly and backboned

a blanket of snow – stitched and gone

textured trees, willows wind blown

here where an early moon heaven still hovers

here amid the last smoking sky of cold

a chirping of morning birds unfolds

singing a gleeful goodbye to the moon night

winging before the sunrise

the blooming of daffodil springtime

and too, wisteria tangled vines will climb

reach for the calm of violet skies.

Sky of jewels

Celestial, indigo

sparkling stars of fire

molten rings of planets round

the silent sailing clouds

float across a sallow moon

hung in a sky of glittered jewels

diamonds, opals, pearls

Of Fire

The final blue hours of day

the falling to your sway

the mad of reason slipping away

under the pale moon, of night’s dawn

with stars all strung, you’ll come

so soon to taste, to kiss me

a crushing fire, to quench

to melt, to take me

Lullaby of the Whales

High in hills, winds the road to your home

steeped and flowered by lupine towers

after long slumber, the waking hour – warmth of summer comes

our feet grassed and green, we wish dandelion dreams

watch tiny parachutes glide into the sea

this place is wild resplendent music, played of notes unknown

we have become more than ourselves, and slowed

have stopped to feel our breath grow

making a path, cut from last year

we are slipped and sloped toward shore

silhouetted, just before the end of sun

when the world sinks silent

but for the deeply toned

hum of whale song.

Like winter weather

Winter was his letter, wicked weather

with a head full of snow, a deafening cold

blinding, piercingly curt without a care

slighting me, cruel with words unfair

upon the telling page, icy clear

and I frozen in my dumbfounded stare

left cold, lost in winter weather.

Just to be

It is nothing hard to find

to be the stillness inside

the slowing of time

sink into the tranquil divine

the drift and melt away

of mind

It is nothing you cannot know

the unwinding slow, the softening of soul

the water trickle, splash and sparkle

It is something worthwhile

to let the moment be

swallowed by the sea

to be the shore, to sit and wait

ever at the gate of the unknown

How you miss me

When finally quiet comes

the long pain of night’s trudge

the unmasked soul dredge

swift an arrow, piercing

when friends have all gone

in the silent dark before dawn

this is when you

miss me.

Helium headed

He bought and sold things, much like the man

who sold balloons in the park, fashioning them into strange animals

mostly fastened to wooden sticks, except for the helium headed ones

they remind me of you, floating high and lofty

out of reach, wanting escape from ties and pulling strings

drifting from the city moving countrywards

many are mesmerized by the migration

the fantastical triumph of levitation

they wait for days, years under trees

but not I, I am no longer drunk by

hot air and helium dreams

Colored rings

Kaleidoscope eyes

spirals amber brown

meld and move, turn and groove

exquisite mandala art, they impart

colored rings, how they bring

ever close your soul to me.

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