words cloaked in secrecy

disguised by a covert pen


but should love be also

blanketed in mystery


yet it is so and must be so

swathed and concealed


my love for a beautiful one

remains hidden in words



november 2017



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river song


A river flows

through days

reflecting dreams


The river sings

a melody

turning hope to song


The river cuts through

a stone of lies

meanders around moments


I toss laughter and tears

in the river

the current swells


The river tosses back

discarded words

they die in my hands


I sing the river melody

it becomes me

and my song



november 2017





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post-traumatic stress

is what I named it

for lack of a better term


internal tremor

invisible layer

underneath days, months, years


walking among landmines


when waking up from nightmares

who wants to stay

and replay hell again



november 2017





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clanging noise


Some people drain the energy out of you

Suck out all life and breath

Their presence is like a clanging cymbal

Drowning out good music and words


Other people

I imagine are just the opposite



november 2017




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There is a certain face

I would love to see every day


There is a certain smile

That delights me

(whenever I am fortunate to see that smile)


There is a certain voice

I like to hear


I would love to hear his voice

Every day

Speaking, singing, praying, whispering, 

laughing, talking, dreaming, marveling, discussing…


There is a pair of bright eyes

I’d like to see every day

(I would love to look into those eyes)


But time and circumstances

Dictate otherwise


In my foolishness

I still dream

Of impossibilities

And imagine how anything so impossible

Could possibly be


I hope, wish, dream, imagine, pray

of impossibilities


And redirect my dreams and thoughts

to the beauty of falling leaves

and rays of sunshine falling on me


Hope in God

and His plans for me


But I also hope for other beautiful things

Which life has not given me

Which do not exist for me

And wish for those plans to include

something like this

someone like him


Certain beautiful people-

or person- I should say

I’m glad they exist-

or I’m happy he exists-

I should say


Though he might as well be

as far away as the moon


Because it reminds me

beautiful people exist

Though he can’t be with me

beautiful people exist

like him


Though he is

as far away as the moon

from me

As far away as circumstances

 and reality can be


I constantly wonder

what he is doing

where he is

how he is


And wish to be the one

the one he talks to

but I am not

And I wish to be the one

who talks to him

but I am not

And wish to be the one he loves

but I am not


He cannot think of me

or would he- even-

even if he could

I have no way to know


He must be happy and content in his life

And I can’t go there

 (or is he? I presume so, he indicates so,

I suppose so, I do not know so, I do not know)


Boundaries, barriers, borders, barricades


I have to be content

I try to be content

with what I can see, hear

with the same he shares with the rest of the world

And that his eyes full of light

cannot give me a second thought

And I have tried very hard

to not think of these things

to remind myself of impossibilities


The distance–

it may only be a few miles

but his presence and love

are as far away as the moon

from me


an impossibility


Every day, I walk through the pain and ache

of this


He, living in his sphere

not knowing

I think of him

Not that it would matter

to him

(It’s me dreaming again)


He does not know I love his face and smile

his heart

his words


He has no way to know


I wade through waters

of impossibilities



november 2017

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song of home


song of home



my song of home


is a song I carry with me

and always will


no one reads these words

or knows my songs


I wish to know you

were reading


but do you know

one of those songs


is you

beautiful you



november 2017

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no man’s land

I’m in no man’s land

Chasing after a fool’s vision


I know it and yet I still walk toward

The edge of imaginary sunsets


Of what I know and don’t know


I seem to be lost

In some sort of strange place


Between here and there

Nowhere and somewhere


I think sometimes I know

And then I think I’m wrong

And don’t know anything

About anything


Because reality is a hard dose of truth

And I have to step back in the winter


And because reality is reality

It is

What is


Running, I feel like running

And turn time backward

To all things and make it all ok

For everyone


Let me go home

Home, for just a while


And collect each day once again,

More slowly this time,

More slowly


Maybe one day these two worlds

Will meld

And I’ll no longer have to

Fall asleep daydreaming



november 2017

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