the plaintive calls

in this temporary lull…

in the stall that passes for a quiet pause…

the sigh between stoplights winking…

through another relentless rumbling evening rush,
.
.
i can hear the faint… the plaintive calls.

like memories echoing down narrow windowed canyon walls

a slow whitened silhouette a blur above rooftops,

entrails across the smoke dark shroud of sky.
.
.
a lone seagull…

aloft in her weightless circles calling…

pleading our cause that carnivorous Winter release

it’s talon grip on our weathered psyches.
.
.
this colossal metropolis

frayed and weary along its steely margins,

holding a collective breath praying for relief

for signs our resolve has slain the beast.
.
.
to be home… and warm is a primal lure

and cars have little patience for an inconvenient reverie,

but i have witnessed Spring’s first inland gull

and believe her plea was not in vain.
.
.
heartened and invigorated now,

windows down i invite the viper wind

to hiss his last stinging breaths on my skin

and tangle my hair as i drive.

the tenacity of innocence

.
.
.

born in tentative voice…
sadly that so many sentences have
since choked quiet in this throat, scathing
self doubt daring these lips to tell.

and such beauty witnessed i abandoned to fear
forsaking my pens their ink to run bone dry,
the unrecorded curiosity of an innocent imagination.
oh.. the decades white in pages…

and creativity… the purest gift…
hidden secret in wasteful dormancy, a shroud
in numbing cloaks of self medicated apathy
a faux justification of my feigned indifference.

the stark anomaly in my bloodlines…
an empath hyper alive in insensitive worlds
of blank eyes and suspicious glances,
my vulnerability worn like a deer in the clearing.

my back has bent bearing the
weights of this artistic expectation, grieving
unrealized creativity a constant burden, spiritless
this stale soul air filling its void.

sinister angel of drought!
i hear your cruel hiss of darkness
stirring memories echoing my tragic past,
the voice that would swallow me whole.

but i have lived to see my whiskers grey, and
i see my years through the merciful memory of eyes
that never forget… the beauty they’ve seen,
because it’s my innocence i will relive fondly now.

living rightly and whole today
i stand among the alignment of stars
projecting the destiny of a Light within, knowing
my last clean breath… will hold no regrets.
.
.

.
.
approx. 8″ x 8″ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white and black marker,
wax crayons and sourced from various Google pics
click to enlarge

Siren of Shooting Stars

dear friends,
it’s been a long week and a longer winter.
i began daydreaming about the warm weather
and the annual vacation we take each August.
we rent a 5 bedroom houseboat on Holly Lake
in Tennessee and find our favorite cove and
tie up for 10 ten days.

this is a repost, i edited the form. it was written
in one sitting at 3am as i sat as i always do, on the
top deck while family and friends were asleep. this song
was playing in my headphones and this poem was inspired by
the incredible shower of shooting stars that crossed the sky.

please play the song and begin reading…ty and i hope you enjoy.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

when

the

S u n

is

busy

elsewhere…..

.
.

and

the

night

descends

upon

your

world…

.
.

in

your

S i l e n c e…

.
.

in

the

S e r e n i t y

of

forgiving

S o l i t u d e…

.
.

cast

away

the

fear,
.
.

just

S u r r e n d e r

your

heart

.
.

and

.
.

L i s t e n.

.
.

beg

your

eyes

to

open,

.
.

to

gaze

so

high

above

the

low

horizon.

.
.

there…

beyond

any

doubt

.
.

behind

the

shadow

of

constant

cloud,

.
.

S h e

can

be

seen

each

night

cajoling

every

S t a r

in

your

S k y.

.
.

B e l i e v e,

.
.

embrace

your

F a i t h.

.
.

S h e

is

O m n i p r e s e n t,

.
.

S h e

is

E v e r l a s t i n g.

.
.

S h e

is

a

daughter

of

the

U n i v e r s e,

.
.

a

S i r e n

of

S h o o t i n g

S t a r s.

.
.

her

voice

a

chorus,

.
.

a

H a r m o n y

of

every

melody

devoted

to

.
.

L o v e.

.
.

her

history

our

yearning,

.
.

the

sum

of

our

forgotten

M e m o r y.

.
.

her

shape,

a

C o s m i c

swirling

of

I n f i n i t e

density.

.
.

S h e

talks

to

S t a r s,

.
.

in

the

U n i v e r s a l

language

of

L o v e,

of

.
.

R e a s s u r a n c e.

.
.

a

S i r e n

offering

C o u r a g e

to

erase

their

fear.

.
.

‘my bashful star,
.
.
ready yourself for the voyage.

.
.

T i m e

is

N o w.’

.
.

‘oh, lovely star
.
.
hear my song,
.
.
my Melody of Love as you fly’

.
.

‘go little star!

.
blaze a trail
.
.
across the midnight sky’

.
.

and

become

N o w,
.
.
what you were always meant to Be.’
.
.
and show this world
.
.
P e r f e c t i o n,
.
.
in your moment of
.
.
E t e r n i t y.’

.
.

between day and mystery…..Haiku / Tanka

.
.
a most beautiful song to read by
.

.
.
.
.
.
between day and mystery
.
.
.
.

could it really be…
.
.
.
these arms spent so many years
.
.
.
not holding you near,
.
.
.
.
.
without breathing in
.
.
.
the scent of love in your voice
.
.
.
when you’re close to me?
.
.
.
.
.
how long did i wish…
.
.
.
that every cloud would spell
.
.
.
your name in the sky,
.
.
.
.
.
a heavenly trail
.
.
.
i would follow faithfully.
.
.
.
in each dream i dreamt…
.
.
.
tumbling through galaxies…
.
.
.
search imploding stars for
.
.
.
.
.
any trace of you.
.
.
.
how these fingers grieved,
.
.
.
without the soft curves of your
.
.
.
body next to me.
.
.
.
tossing and turning as each
.
.
.
day morphed into loveless night.
.
.
.
.
.
awake….without you…
.
.
.
.
living in the void between
.
.
.
.
day…. and mystery.
.
.
.
.

Monday Haiku: i almost lost H o p e

to her….
will be random posting
of Haiku devoted to
Scout, my partner
.
.
.
i almost lost. H o p e.
.
.

i almost lost H o p e,

from all the beginnings… from

such tragic endings.
.
.
of trying so hard

to find. L o v e. where there wasn’t,

of tears shed alone,
.
.
another year gone….

of doubt there was someone there

waiting… and waiting…
.
.
i just wanted. L o v e…

in a life spent untethered,

rootless… adrift… and
.
.
without .F a m i l y.

spinning my lonely circles,’

’round and ’round and ’round…
.
.
why was it so hard?

had i become… L o v e ‘s. misfit,

would that be my fate?
.
.
it’s doubt that i knew,

why would this wounded heart ask

again for… more pain?
.
.
i almost… lost. H o p e,

i nearly lost sight that we

are… meant to be loved.
.
.
i almost lost faith

that… Y o u .would ever be found.
.

i couldn’t give up,
.
.
and i’ll tell you why…

i heard my .H e a r t. whispering,
.

it told me… try… try.

.
.
.
.
.
.
Multiple Love
I still believe in love at first sight.
A skip of your heart and a flicker of light.
So maybe there’s two and maybe it’s you.
But I don’t go quietly into the blue, ‘cos

I am happy alone.
I am happy alone, and I don’t
Need another half if I am whole
But maybe, persuade me,
And I’ll do the best that I can
.
.
ty Tiffany Coffman, a special poet
for the music share, this beautiful
song inspired this poem and
was written to its tempo
.

.
.

the white dress

this is the second
in a series of
3 poems

1) the improbability of us
.
.
.
.
a beautiful instrumental to read by.
.

.
.
the white dress
.
.
.
i found that photo of you…
like all the serendipitous details
of this twelve year improbable union….it appeared,
falling through time when i wasn’t looking…
face up, lightly to the floor…
.
.
i stood there…
in my infinite moment….lost
before reaching, soft cradling all
its significance in these large hands…
retracing the conflicted memory of that day…
.
.
the surface scratched,
its edges curling and slightly frayed…
the years hidden in a drawer… in between,
taking its inevitable toll…and yet,
there you were… always.
.
.
looking over your shoulder,
peering into everything i ever was…
reassuring my every mistake and imperfection…
reminding me, to myself…because there were days then,
i relied on you to remember who i am
.
.
you brought the photo home that day
casually, with a nonchalant laugh set it down,
as if i wouldn’t notice…..you,
and all that i ever wanted… standing,
with your back exposed in your perfect silhouette,
.
.
outlined in a white wedding dress.
as if i wouldn’t notice, each fine laced detail
and the small elegant train puddled on
the glossy warm oak floor.
as if i wouldn’t ask…
.
.
oh….you just tried it on for a laugh,
while you were there fitting a bridesmaid gown…
and me desperately, silently, yearning to make it real
but i was broken, and could offer only the moments we were in,
and all this quiet heart could ever give you
.
.
and oh, the moments we lived inseperably
and every trust of mine sliced in two have healed,
and embroidered whole again in loyal, brightly thread
and together, again and again persevering against the wind
and our family, our friendship thriving now, where there was none
.
.
.
.
.
.
i found that photo of you,
and i’m gently cradling all its
significance in my hands right now…
and darlin’…you need to know, there is
something… stirring deep in this heart of mine…

oh, sweet night!

dear friends, this song is meant to be
played as a soundtrack::::enjoy::::
.

.
.
.
.

i walk the streets of my city…

an insignificant spirit refugee,

stranded in shadowed concrete canyons.
.
.
.
in my hidden anonymity,

blank behind blue shades and

wind whipped hair across this face.
.
.
.
i search in vain for any spark,

peek for miracles around every corner.

on sidewalks choked, with rustling hordes,

in narrow blackened streets, of rolling steel.
.
.
.
in shallow lung tentative

breathing of our muck and grime.

an empath’s lament and responsibility,

absorbing each speck in sound and emotion.
.
.
.
oh low sun…

you’ve…had your day,

blinding these sensitive eyes.
.
.
.
my shy sister moon…

please…show yourself…

it’s our time to shine now!
.
.
.
oh million hidden stars…

appear now one by one by one

and light the way to my forgiving solitude.
.
.
.
lone distant stars, join and sing your song

in ancient melody, erase this day in stale memory,

deliver our world, the dense of black night i crave!
.
.
.
help me, scrub the crust of strangers from my skin,

and flush their anxious aura, from my consciousness.

cleanse a fragile heart, every absorbed anger and cruelty.

free this old soul, from the deadly weight of this world.
.
.
.
strip me innocent again,

bathe me, in your galaxy starlight voices!

sing in glorius chorus, of collective memory,

in universal dialect of wisdom and harmony.
.
.
.
tender night, calm this restless mind,

cradle a trusting heart in your embrace.

blanket me close, in ethereal spirit mystery

of self reflection and fearless quietude.
.
.
.
.
oh sweet night!
.
.
usher in the hushed
.
midnight hours ’til dawn…
.
it’s there… when the world
.
is invisible and asleep…
.
it’s then….

that i can hear
.
the kindness of the Universe,
.
whisper the poetry
.
of sweet emotional release!
.
.
.
.

i shine with her

.
.
and as the sun
eyes its sneaky peek
above the flat line low horizon
golden shine the willowy frays, slow swaying
atop our sturdy fields of endless corn
.
.
.
i consider joining a sudden chorus,
three distant roosters crow echoing
their complaint to any who will listen,
that this too early hour expects
so much responsibility
.
.
.
a boisterous sun
needs little coaxing to
bless this world with another day but,
my humble, half moon companion retreats silent
behind her lacey veil of early day, as she is oft to do
.
.
.
roosters crowing earnest skyward
in star light tongues only she deciphers,
persuade the moon her return night after night
I take up the call, pleading with my demure sister of night,
for it is the midnight hours ‘til dawn, that I shine with her

.
.
.
.
.
Return to Me
i am here, calling your name
i am here, calling you back
return to me…return to me
i am here, return to me
.
.

fade…a clarification

dear friends…i thought it was important to make clear that this poem is a story, it is fiction and it has nothing to do with my day to day, loving relationship with my partner Scout and i. i guess i muddied the waters a little bit when i spoke about my momentary melancholy, it happens to me from time to time for no apparent reason. i just took the opportunity to put those feelings into words, and that’s what this story is.

so sorry if i created any confusion.
.
.
this poem is meant to be read as this song plays in the background
.

.
.
.
.
even in the small apartment they shared
he could now carefully manipulate his body
so that no part of him ever touched her in passing
in the cramped kitchen, reaching into the fridge
at the sink, rushing to get ready for work

as if her skin didn’t grieve
the absense of his touch, as if she
couldn’t truly remember when he didn’t need a reason
to press up against her, just because he needed to
as if her lips, didn’t miss parting for his

she’ll admit to being slow
to fully absorb, what had changed between them
or maybe it was just her easy nature again
smoothing over the rough spots
blaming herself, for whatever might be wrong

at first she thought
it was just another mood he was in, a phase
she would wake up any morning now, and this could all be gone
back to when they shared more than expenses and a place to sleep gone… without a word spoken about any of it

it’s not that he was unkind, and it’s
not that he would say things that would upset her, he knew better he just never said anything right anymore….
yet they both played their charaade in public, it was
when they were alone together, that the silence screamed loudest

in the dimly lit rooms,
filled with 40 watt bulbs and questions that could never be asked end tables crowded with yellowing memories, framed pictures of their early years together, smiles and endless chatter during their torrid romance when everything seemed possible

when… he said everything right, all the words
she ever dreamed of hearing from a man
all she ever imagined a man might make her body feel
and now he flinches, at an accidental brush across his arm
like her presence… is an imposition in his life

now, it’s a fear that grips her chest
when she dares to face the possibility of this truth
she’s learned… she takes comfort in the hollow pain
her loneliness a reliable lover now, she stays
because it is far less frightening, than what she doesn’t know . . .
.
.
.

because no love should ever just fade…
there is no reconciliation in apathy
no healing in the cruel silence of ambivalence
an unsteady self is left shaken
attempting to answer questions that pleaded to be
but were never answered
.
.
because love
deserves more than
a cowardly exit . .

in black and white…Haiku

maybe i’m ‘old school’
or just an anomaly,
i have a soft spot

my knees go weak for,
black and white photography.
color spells it out,

but somethin’ about
using imagination
to fill in the blanks….

’cause i see green waves
in those endless summer eyes
my mind is drifting…
.
.

.
.
.
that white stretch of sand…
embracing warm on our skin…
watching the sun climb

up a cloudless sky…
whispers as you slept…are they
words i long to hear?

i had to listen,
so i eavesdropped while you dreamt.
now i’m wondering…

secretly yearning
when waves roll into night, will
you whisper again?
.
.

.
.
so i finally took the leap into the abyss, a poem in Haiku form.
a first attempt, a daydream, a reverie with special meaning to me.
the photo is a stock image i happen to like a lot.