Category Archives: Poetry

Stretching to the Sun

Stretching to the sun
Like a cat to petting hands:
See the purring leaves.


Of It

You can do without it
If they think you can get it.
They’ll give you more of it.
(That is, if you have more of it)
They won’t give you any of it
If you don’t have any of it.
And if it’s offered for free,
You’ll take more of it
If you have more of it.
Can anyone make sense of it?


Hard to Ignore

It starts sharp – a stab of a needle
Or a painful shout, a command without words.
Angry muscles demanding you stop:
Pointless really (the show must go on)
Yet persistent and powerful.
Hard to ignore, so you adjust your weight
As best you can and grimace through
Until you can collapse in victory: finished.
In a way, anyway. The sharp pains end.
The high of endorphins sees you home to bed
In relative comfort (exhaustion alone)
Until the next day. Then, the dullness begins.
The throbbing ache in your bones –
A lingering numbness with teeth that stays and stays
Until the story starts over again.


Can We?

Can we hear without the babble?
The explosive blasts of seductive dribble,
Surrounding sultry images and alluring tales.
Can we see without the glow?
The flashes of light from scene to scene
With softer sounds yet exciting stories.
Can we feel without their guide?
The subtle crescendo and decrescendo,
With tempos driving and directing our hearts.
“We can,” you say, with cocky ease,
But if we can, then why don’t we?


Addictive (& Delicious)

Terribly and
Extraordinarily
Addictive (& delicious)


The Withered Blossom

The withered blossom
Hangs limply, shriveled and brown:
A relic of spring.


With a Broad Brush

With a broad brush,
She paints the sky with black,
Blocking out stars,
The faintest trace of light.
Layer upon layer,
She buries them away.
Layer upon layer,
The stubborn stars stay.


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