Poetry

Originally published in 2004 the poem “A Whisper to the Night” has been completely reinvented. Arguably one of my best poems this new version creates a more complete narrative that the original could only hint toward.   i. A whisper to the night; The river speaks. Its moving streams move out of sight Flowing into the deep, deep night. The…

While the early morning still is dipped in blue And the eager sun begins encroaching upon the horizon I am awakened by the approaching Chimes of autumn’s leaves rising

  It will happen on a night like this When the stars dangle precariously from strings Into a black ether. When an unobstructed moon Slowly wanes across a star-filled sky; On that night I will whisper “Be careful of the stars” And my words will follow you as you travel. (No matter where you are)

for G.F.   Where is the air, I cannot breathe? The weight of this world is too heavy. It’s a suffocating frenzy Of people in need. Like the King, my name will be upon the lips of many – a flaming arrow that will blister the ears of those unwilling to hear. No matter how far or near They are…

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It’s lonely getting lost In the dense forest of life, (Which I often do) Anytime I wander through. No matter how hard or long I try The paths I have chosen are rarely right. And so I am left wandering all night Among trees that always seem the same. The sun, which once guided me Is now shrouded by an…

This might be best categorized as an experimental poem. A very raw impromptu work with very little editing and forethought. These thoughts are more like a journal entry, as they simply came to mind while listening to the Christmas song O Holy Night.

How does one say “I love you”, to someone who is incredibly special to you. Simple words seem to fall back upon me as dew on the grass. Cindy and I are very unconventional people and so doing something conventional would lack sufficient meaning for us. Two years ago I began thinking about this moment. Why? It’s simple. For some…

I. He holds a gentle yet firm grasp Of the soul. He teaches you how to grow Up, and get old.   He teaches you how to work… How to love… How to do what is right; Simply by the way he lives his life.   He is a shelter from the storm, And your blanket during the winter cold….

Oh, how I love a Sunday afternoon nap in early spring. When the brisk breeze broaches the threshold of the window screen. And laying my head upon the cool pillow Betrays the intent of this beautiful day. As the season breaths on me I begin inhaling the fresh purified air Setting my lungs free And putting my body at ease…