What Breed am I?

What sovereign eye
Has cursed me not to feel?
Unless I cut myself to bleed these words of grit and death?
Who cursed me not to love unless
I first write of distress?


Open channel, ink descending
Starlit heavens, wide-eyed searching
My madness burrows in
The screaming fills my skin. 

I need to breathe what the star-keeper sees

Or the shadows will corner me in.

The Eye of the Poem

So many words to capture this feeling;

This dark slumbering now brightened 

So many thoughts that spiral around

A cyclone of rushing, which inside is silent. 
Breathe in clarity for the first time in decades

Enjoy the oxygen’s dizzying rush

Leave behind bitterness, anger, frustration

Welcome home your recovering Trust. 


If ever I doubt the way my heart feels

Once again, unbidden, to my mind will spring

the image of your body, lifeless and still

wreathed in flowers as the pallbearers sing.


Just imagining this in my darkest thought

sends daggers clawing through my chest

It makes me regret each time that we’ve fought

And the longings increase to give you my best.


So if ever I look at you without my heart twinging

I will remember again, life is so very fleeting.

This place is too evanescent to doubt

that my love for you should know no bounds.



I glance about and note some trash
eyes lingering on its curving shape.
Some remnant of a ghostly past,
like a discarded jawbone left to waste.

Not yet abandoned to the dust,
my flesh has yet to rot and die.
With time grows weak my wanderlust,
though now, today, I am alive.

Some spark of thought lights weakly here,
that some day soon my end draws near.
Then my existence too will cease,
my bones back to the earth a piece.

Will words I once breathed live again?
Beyond my grave and charred remains.
If all I wrote, I wrote in vain,
at least in life it eased my pain.

All is not lost, though earth will be,
and gain is perishing to me.
For souls survive beyond the dark,
once bitter stillness grips my heart.

To Feel

When emotions strain against my flesh
And I feel them press against my chest
They seek release, held in by bone
And a heart that aches when it’s alone.

The feelings surge down my fingertips
They speak the thoughts mute from my lips
Words that dance in song and ink
Release the heart that dares to think.

The cold touch of my hands is sure
To ignite a flame of written word
Skin that’s cracked from scrubbing stains
Of pens that broke from all my pain.

The writing flows and soothes my fear
The beauty of sonorous words that breathe
And phrases become eternally dear
In their rhyme, entrenched in memory.