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Poem – A Childhood in Retrospect
Shifting through photos I feel no connection, no recognition to the person with time and years ahead of them, looking to the future. Pausing at one in particular in the midst of summer, oak leaves burning with white light, the sun slowly fading into the horizon behind the hill at the street’s end. What was…
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Poem – Arrival
Turning back with empty hands they find the path along the river. Rain begins as they near the forest and where they last arrived. Stopping at the treeline they wait through changing seasons. – to be continued –
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Poem – Destiny
As the rain subsides and the sky fills with birds I am left with a fragment of who I was yesterday. That is to say each day we are given the chance to change to shed what is not needed and keep what we are destined to be.
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Poem – Beneath the Lights
Sirens fade into the cityscape. Cigarette smoke encircles the face. She stands at the corner lost. She stands at the corner waiting. The city lights mask the darkness sleeping beneath bridges, the depth of hopelessness strolling midnight streets. Beyond here false prophets speak hollow words and promises that never come to fruition, they never come…
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Poem – The Depth of November
November is the transition of fall to winter. November gives up the red, orange, yellow, and gold for brown into grey. The sky gains depth, definition, and clarity. November is laid bare at your feet and we head within ourselves to find warmth and answers to the probing questions and immediate need to cope with…
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Poem – To the Outside
To the outside we are primitive specks of dust lost on some distant chunk of molten rock destined for an uncertain future defined by the egoistical driven actions we take for ourselves with little regard to the sphere of influence we exert on those around us. We are primitive in our methods and usage of…
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From the depths of winter
Just finished moving to a new house (whose idea was it to move in winter?) and we have emerged from the boxes and disarray. So much going on, so many changes, but it is the start of a new chapter. Each day is a reminder of who we were yesterday and who we can become…
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Reading and writing
To help with my writing funk, I’ve been reading a lot more than usual. And that advice is always given to writers: read more. Read different genres or subjects than what you are writing about. This helps to expand your mental awareness and give a larger pool of ideas and images to the mind and…
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Frosty Start
The first morning where the ice scrapper was necessary, provided a nice slap in the face and a reminder that this is Minnesota, I should have soaked up the 70 degree days more than I did.
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Poem – Mind Games
Trying to get my head straight. I stare carelessly out the second floor windows at burnt yellow and green leaves. Not much wind is blowing. Even with a stifling heat and little wind, there is something calming about this later afternoon, some other white noise is present. On the verge of sleep my eyes are…