In Remembrance

OverHis journey, nowEveryone touched by himRemembers well today, the lifeThe man

How might love go?

You’ve heard it said, happily ever after.Truth is, that is the hardest to find.How might love go? Where can we find clues?In the hard hitting guitar of the blues.Or the sweet, mournful sound of a well travelledCountry song.

Waltz

Not so idle hands will often betray words that ring hollow. We’ve heard it all before. Now you have to show me. No time for lectures. You chose your vice, I’m damn sure going to have mine. A heavy heart lashes out, still finding no solace. I can admit to sin. Words can be […]

Self Crafted Hell

The pieces in place, prepared to render justice for transgressions most human. A mortal plane of existence, designed to torment and punish the failings of an apathetic soul. Crafted in mine own image.  An earth bound hell, built to hold the memories and stoke the regrets. The reminders of loss and what might have been,

How

How might we express that timeA shared union, past tense sureReal and imagined, to some extentBound, yet also aloofWhole, complete, fulfilledAnd toxic tooOnce, that was usGone now, and for the best

Humble haiku February 9

simple, trickle flowwinding through the land easythe stream brings colorwaking, rising sunlifting darkness away, nowmy eyes feel againonce, we possessed alllove, life, meaning, confidencegone now, the magic

Place Your Bets

Only an observation, likely something suggested in folly. We can keep on wishing darlin’. Or we can embrace opportunity. Rolling with the punches as they say, has come so natural. If indeed that, something better, presents itself, manifesting our truest desire, perhaps we will see it more easily if we engage in the mundane earnestly.

Longing in Reality

He catches a glimpse of it often. Though it never manifests straight on. Only revealing itself, in his peripheral. The sight is enough to chill his soul. He accepts that it serves to torment him. To render his punishment for the failings inherent with mortality. Disturbing his slumber, bringing terror to the cold darkness of

Waltz

  Not so idle hands will often betray words that ring hollow. We’ve heard it all before. Now you have to show me. No time for lectures. You chose your vice, I’m damn sure going to have mine. A heavy heart lashes out, still finding no solace. I can admit to sin. Words can be

The Curtain Fell

Foolish to linger.  There is a balance to the delight.  You both played your parts. Often it is manifest in fleeting affection.  The curtain fell long ago. Tis better to remain oblivious to the likelihood that your world will be pulled asunder. You wanted to take a bow.  Giving the heart ample opportunity to cling