A Lighthouse Beam

Shimmering like a lighthouse beam, My voice goes out to you at sea, To say there's no safe haven here, Beware the rocks, stay safe and clear, Pass on in the calm of the night, Or in the storm take heed my light, Don't thank me, just do as you do, I do this, because … Continue reading A Lighthouse Beam →

Luna Wept

Luna wept to behold her visage,Upon the inner lakeshore of Skye,And on the precipice of the rocky crags,Her tears ran like vinegar light,Rivulets of her loneliness dissipating, Smelling of burnt sap and children's sighs,While I found myself growing old,Drowning in her long lost love.

The Vacuous Sigh

I took a sip of hemlock today, So that I might die a philosopher, Imparting upon the world wisdom, Or, the very least, a pithy remark, But as the dark shroud fell over me, No terrible truths fell from my pale lips, Just the vacuous sigh, "Oh, I see," As oblivion stole my breathe away.

Eternity’s Heartbeat

There's a purity to loneliness,My quiet country bleached by sun,A sandy horizon unbroken,Where time stretches and shrinks,Until all my thoughts are captured in a sigh. If I close my eyes, I can hear oblivion,The gentle hush of an eternity's heartbeat,While my own dreams spill into the ether,Until even I am a distant recollection,Like salt on … Continue reading Eternity’s Heartbeat →

Maybe it Will Grow

Sadness is a thing you carry,So you can pluck it from your breast,And plant it in the earth.Shed a single tear more,To feed the seed,And maybe, maybe,It will grow,Into something of worth,Or at least worth loving. Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, "Seed" as part of their Quadrille Series (#127)

Remnants of Old, Shattered Pride

The wind from the open window,Is cool against my feverish face,My legs fold against my aching chest,As bruised arms hug my knees tight,Time slows to a crawl, my mind is hollow,Empty but for the remnants of old, shattered pride,So thinking, my eyes linger too long on a phone discarded. When will the response come?And will … Continue reading Remnants of Old, Shattered Pride →

The Agony of Creation

It begins with a word, gasping in the dark, Whereupon the echoes of its birth sound to heaven and hell, Far cries become whispers as they fold out into the infinite, The song begins. From darkness is light, from light, a furtive mote of life, Until this desert is populated by so many humming grains … Continue reading The Agony of Creation →

Crossing the Threshold

The doctor's opinion was cruel at best, It seems years of stress cannot be reversed by rest, So maybe it's true what they say about art, About how every work takes a piece of your heart, Although in this case it took from her arm, Up to the threshold of "irreversible harm," She reflects on … Continue reading Crossing the Threshold →

A Planned Obsolescence

Death is often cruel.Death has a way of stealing things precious,denying you a certain satisfaction. But Life is crueler.Life gives you hope, but never offers catharsis,crushing you under petty detractions. I am left to wonder the choice: Is it worse to be left alone,to have survived the perils of false adoration?Or be rejected by someone … Continue reading A Planned Obsolescence →

A Tinge of Reality

So comes the hour of fateful doom, Our entrance into the writer's tomb, Rich in literary heirlooms, "Behold!" says I to the schoolroom, Which responds with a silent gloom, No student yet knows how to use Zoom.