Wednesday, April 30, 2014


Today I gave up what I love
The last remnants of the fabric of  WE
There are no more tomorrows
So little sense in yesterdays
Whether pondering
Or pining
So I pulled a loose thread
And watched the whole pattern unravel
If I'm truthful,
Then Yes!
I unraveled a bit too
But the choices before me were grim
Not worth choosing:
Remain part of a fading tapestry or
Wait until it was threadbare?
No, there are no magic carpet rides
So I chose
The undoing was mine


The White Witch comes with
Grace and smiles
Adorned with a halo of hope
Her charms beguile
With wiles in disguise
Seeking to disarm all the while
With right hand outstretched in 
Gestures of kinship
Yet a dagger is poised in the left
Ready to excise your heart
Sever a slice of life
And make your way harsh
Her words belie her true intent
They are spells meant
To deceive
Enchanting? Yes they are
Incantations designed to mar
The mind and spirit 
To steal your peace
Be wary 
She is your enemy
Guard your thoughts well
Speak not of plans
The White Witch devises
Divisive devices
Brother from Brother
And Mother from Child
Shrink back from the spotlight
Or soon you'll learn of her guile
Center Stage is where she most thrives
Playing Martyr, Victor, Sage most wise
Oh extol her, laud her with song
Hide your faces For the White Witch comes
Her proffered professions
Fraught with oppression
Save yourself
Save your lands
From her kisses and Love declarations
All false ministrations
Run now, take cover
Sit in darkness, shun the light
For until her reign is over
The White Witch rules
A brilliant blight 

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

I Wonder

What will morning bring
In a world washed clean
By night's dew
New thoughts of grand schemes
Melody of heartbeats
Resounding anew

Monday, April 28, 2014

Love Songs

Here's the thing 
Those love songs are just
Words on a page 
So don't mistake them 
For oaths 
Remember all 
Are easily 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014


Professions of ardor

Soft spoken

Oft mentioned

Consider those words well

Which belie true intention

Last Day of March

Stormy Sunday
Morning motioning to me
With rhythmic raindrops
Bouncing beckoning
Frenetic falling
Kisses from on High

That Girl

"That Girl" is my friend, Kate as well as the title of her Blog. I often share my poetry with her before posting because she is a fierce editor and sound critic.  Yes, I trust her that much.  In the past week I have written poems about Champions waving banners in victory over loss. I have written about what it means to be Brave. Brava Kate, for sharing your story, thus lighting a candle for others on the road to recovery.


Brave is the soul
Whose confession is that of
Illuminating the path to
On the journey to becoming

Please see more of Kate's writing at: