Beneath the mossy turf of maple shades, Lie the remains of mountain stairs, Dark stone dragged from barbarian shores, An offering of fealty, Honored by a century's duty, But now, having earned its repose, It sleeps and dreams of thundering feet... ... Of a country at war, and blood, The blood of warrior-monks chanting, Those … Continue reading Remains of Mountain Stairs
My first cigarette was shared between beautiful smiles,The indirect kiss as smoke slid hot through the filter,Escaping my throat in faint blue tinted with sunlight. I'd cough, she'd laugh, and then kiss me so deeply,The taste of that smoke was like heady myrrh,Lingering even today, many years since I have quit the habit, God, I … Continue reading My First
The cries of kids’ games, Echo throughout the courtyard, Dancing on warm winds, Singing as they flow beyond, Beyond the confines of time.
Too many years have I spent looking back, Thinking about the choices I would make, Just so that I could find you in the past, And obliterate our future mistakes. But for all the time I’ve spent longing, Of a past-future that we could not take, I glance forward to see if you look back, … Continue reading To Look Backwards
Along the river,Echo the laughter of ghosts,Lost beyond the time,Children’s games that never end,Children’s dreams that never end.
The book closes, done,Another story complete,The mythic arc ends,The hero's journey over,Yet here I am, incomplete.
Stormy skies remind me of your eyes, Breezy highs in the lows of winter, your sighs, Wild flowers you've tended carelessly grow smiles, While music on the iPod blare your favorite files, Somehow the world revolves around your memory, Know now and forever, you are extraordinary.
The late falling snow, Melts with the gentlest sigh, Like fond memories.
What had become of my friends in this city of memories, Who laid hands to my life and spun delicate reality: Where now goes the eloquence of that wordy smith by the sea? What of that cleverly motherly poet-visionary? My dear brother, and his lovely wife, a blossoming fairy? The venerable old leader's quest, manic … Continue reading The Sighs That Remain Still Breathes Poetry to Me
If friendship is a two way road, Then why can I never find my way back? Back to that place just a few miles ago, Return to where this road was first paved, Far from its dead-end.