Dreams with Wings

If I had wings 

where would they 

take me?
To the sky

steal the wind 

let it send me 

where it pleases
If I were wind

where would I go?

traverse the earth

to and fro

until it ceases 
If I were wind 

what would I bring? 

summon the storm

or gentle breeze?
Give breath to sail

and skim the seas 

Holdin’ a Grudge

These ol’ bones of mine
have taken offense
at the task at hand

Yet they still demand
an apology to accomplish
their rightful duty.

These antiquated ankles
scream and murmur
at the weight of

This ol’ spine of mine
retreats and seeks the
nearest seat

Like an old forgotten crane
with no name abandoned
to dust and rusted strength

These ol’ wrists of mine
hesitate to twist yet whine
make a turn for the worst

These ol’ bones of mine
bent on holding a grudge
hope they don’t judge too harshly

Abandoned to elements

of curious winds

frigid temperatures 

and keen slithering shadow 

within these dark moments 

we sorely forgive the lack 

of her springing countenance 

or her far reaching ray

For when the dawn dances

and gleefully has its way

splitting open the night 

rolling in steady golden streams 

delivering day once again 

on her broad faithful wings

we are grateful for the company 

and the bliss she brings

Mist of Dreams

Broken dreams

lay splintered 

scattered shards

lie forgotten 

forever bound

to disgrace

never to rise again 

nor see the height of day

a slow fading of mist

with substance of fog

a mere passing away

of cloud on the 

day of rain

water that seeks 

out no root

a mockery of soil


in the midst of heat

into senseless 



My hope spreads 

from the ground 



a boundless sky

with doubt defiant

stubborn wings 

defying all logic 

and static dreams

My hope pierces



never ending  

or seeking 

depth of root


a majestic tree

with branches

and rich abiding 

remaining fruit

Rock Me to Sleep

The day drains 


into nightly cascades

steadily dissipating

raven ringlets 

that trickle  away

The deft shadows 

wrap  tightly

rock me to sleep

tells me everything 

will be ok




No one can escape the ghost
who seeks the broken
and torn of heart
But may our hearts
thrive being the engine
that generates rampant joys
feasting and flowing with laughter
lest we lose our way
and our veins run empty
becoming lifeless sacks
of flesh ready for pick up.


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