Posted in Poems


We met within the writer’s world
A club for those with minds
I told her I hated chocolate swirls
At least that was the case at the time
I loved to spin those stories
Oh, the things I’d do and say
Because the soul had something secret
A secret born on the thirty-first day
Don’t me ask why I did it
The crazy mishap that I had wrought
I suppose I couldn’t help it
I suppose, or so I thought
If there were a book with numbers
Pages that told the time
I guess I’d be so happy
Knowing I’d be the first in line
For the thing that might have happened
The thing I once had done
Could not, would not be a past reference
It’s something I’d done in the long run
What happened has not happened
Not yet, but you will see
The reality that you once knew
Is not what you believe

Posted in Poems

Big Brained Man

There once was a man
With a rather large brain
This man with the brain
Was considered insane
But if one looked closely
At the story he told
One just might discover
He was no big brained fool
From a distance
You’d see him yammering on
To who? You may ask
Well, that’s why his brain seemed gone
For the space that he spoke to
Remained empty and void
So people withdrew
From the man unemployed
Every day he’d awake
And say “Hello, how are you?”
To which the space remained still
While the man said, “Well that’s good, me too.”
And so people would think
With good reason, they thought
That this man was on the brink
Of a crazy he’d wrought
But not one single person
Dared to understand
Just what had determined
The fate of this man
Until one stormy day
While the story clouds brewed
Along came a maid
Who understood there be work to do
She swept off his patio
And raked his lawn
She washed his dishes
And covered his yawns
She combed his hair
And folded his bed
For she thought she knew
What went on in his head
The man did not notice
Or so it would seem
The fact that this maid
The house she would clean
He did not know
Or so he portrayed
That this cocky, young woman
Had come to help his ways
The maid, she felt hopeless
And on one pointless night
She packed her bags
And readied to leave at first light
But as the fireplace roared
In her small, tattered room
The man, he came in
And said softly, “It is you.”
“It is I?” She asked.
“It is I you speak to?”
“Yes,” He replied
“I was waiting for you.”
“But what could that mean?”
The maid asked, confused.
And the man, he said quietly
“My death is the clue.”
And then he died

Posted in Poems


The ocean is a friend of mine
An unforgiving friend
I met her once with a glass of wine
I sat there with a pen
I wrote down everything she said
Oh, the stories she could tell
Quietly, she invited me to her bed
And my head, it went to hell
In a book somewhere, I once had read
That beauty is not to sell
The ocean said that beauty is
And always will be a spell
It will enslave the eyes of others
As if there were no time
Their hearts, it will smother
And their ending, it will prime
So the ocean is a friend
A very old friend of mine
Our story has yet to end
And our minds have yet to die
We remain entrapped together
Trapped in a forgotten time
A time that once reflected
Humanity’s greatest rhyme

Posted in Poems

The Field

Once, in the midst of a foggy spell
I stood in a field
With a ghastly smell
The moon shone bright
The clouds stood still
Just as I
Who felt not well
I stood there waiting
For a creature to emerge
A creature I was baiting
Away from its herd
I stood there, sweating
Sweating more
I stood there, shaking
With a creeping horror
The grass swayed gently
Unaware of the fear
The fear that permeated
The field far and near
It once left its mark
On the cattle’s rear
The cattle who once
Roamed year after year
But the cattle were gone
Away from this field
As were the mice
Who had melted and congealed
The creatures remaining
Had run in terror
So the field was empty
Tainted with an eerie flavor
Except for I
Who stood there waiting
Waiting for an evil
That I was baiting
An evil I’d know
Would come out raging
Prepared to take
The bait that was waiting
For but a moment
The only sound
Was that of the grass
As it rustled on the ground
But there it was
That familiar bound
That familiar leap
That familiar hound
It came from the forest
Into the field
And there I stood
Prepared to yield
Its eyes glowed yellow
Its heart unhealed
It knew who I was
I was its next meal
Yes, I confess
“It was I!” I proclaimed
“I took your heart,
It is I you should blame.”
The dog looked at me
Its jaw held tight
It did not weaken
It would not feel fright
It would not hold dearly
The way I stood here
Preparing to give her
The thing she once feared
But I understood
She wasn’t to blame
I stole her heart
And with it her name
In hatred and love
And passion and fright
I had twisted this dove
This creature of light
She was now a dog
A dog untrained
A dog gone wild
With a beastly mane
Her heart had been blackened
By my aforementioned actions
And her mind turned savage
With the times I had ravaged
So there I stood
In the middle of the night
Under a moon
With a pale, pale light
I stood there waiting
For a creature, I was baiting
Knowing this meeting
Would bring no redeeming
“Alright, take me, I’m ready to go.”
She poised there silently, eyeing her foe
I closed my eyes, sweating on death row
And that’s when I heard it, a distinctive “No.”
I opened my eyes, I put my arms down
I spun in circles, I looked round and round
There was no beast, there was no dog
Only a woman who stood there in the fog
She stood there naked, the mist her covering
She stood there smiling, her soul undying
She looked at me and I looked at her
This is who I knew
Before she joined the herd
My mistakes hadn’t ruined
She hadn’t turned
She remained a beauty
A woman not burned
She wasn’t a monster
She’s not like me
She was more pretty
Then the sky and the sea
We left off lost
But now look at her
She continued on
A leader of followers
“I’m so sorry,” I spoke as I choked
But she was gone
Gone away as a ghost
She stood not here
She stood not there
From my narrowed eyes
She wasn’t anywhere
She had left
And to where, I’m not sure
But her silence brought rest
To leave things as they were
But in the night
Things are so strange
The feelings aren’t right
And the thoughts deranged
She left, of this I am certain
But in the midst of this fog
I felt draped with a curtain
My brain felt so tight
And the field, it was new
Poisoned, I’d say
As a thing slithered through
It ejected itself
Into the atmosphere
Leaving its scar
As it entered my ear
“I forgive you.”
She never had said
But I knew that a peace
Her silence had bred
Yet here was this thing
That snaked through myself
It made my ears ring
And my essence, it smelt
It made my eyes black
And my heart turn to coal
And in that moment, it said
“I am you, you fooled soul.”
But how could this be?
This thing that ate me
I collapsed to my knees
Begging it, “Please!”
But it would not lessen
It would not stop
It continued its injestion
As I became a grizzly slop
“But why me?” I asked
As this thing devoured
It paused and whispered
“You wouldn’t forgive you, you coward.”
So what was this thing?
It was me and my rage
To me, it would cling
Like a biological cage
It was an evil unleashed
Something I had made
Because I refused to let go
And turn the next page
And that next page, I’m sure
Would have been glorious
But in this field, you’ll see
Your hate is notorious

It will come back for you
Time after time
It will haunt you
Till the day that you die
On the door of your life
It will arrive
And when you ask who it is
That stands on your porch
It’ll simply reply
“I am evil knocking at your door.
“That, and nothing more.”
Posted in Poems

Two-Faced Note

If the world were a two-faced note
If flowers knew how to gloat
I think I’d know and understand
If there were a master plan
For in looking around
I fail to see
Just what is defined
As good and lovely
In the heart
I’ve heard it said
That dreams not only happen
When I lay in bed
But as I look around at this master piece
I realize that I find no peace
For the story won’t end
It just won’t end
It continues on
So the heart won’t mend
It goes on and on
Chapter after chapter
It rewinds from end to dawn
Just to show me a new factor
There always a new facet
A face that I missed
Such is the curse of a writer
A writer like me, caught in the abyss
So I type and draw and pen myself away
Wondering if the story will ever find its way
But in the end, I see
If there is an end, I hope
That these stories are like the sea
And forever they will grope
They will grope through darkness, humanity and more
They’ll grope through happiness, blood, and war

They’ll serve their purpose
To more than one
For stories are a light
That is brighter than the sun

Posted in Poems

Mr. Drew

Once there was a man named Drew
His name was not Ted or Fred
His name was Mr. Drew, mind you
He worked at a bank, good work for his age
He worked every day, from nine until noon
Three hours a day
That’s all he would work
That’s all they’d require
For the work was a quirk
So from nine till noon on each day anointed
Mr. Drew would work
With clients who were appointed
He’d talk with a smirk
As they asked for their loans
Never once thinking
Of how he was utterly alone
He’d stamp and approve
And file those papers
He’d stamp and he’d fume
As they requested those favors
It was all business
No time for play
For even after hours
He’d work all day
He would hit the hay late
For he worked till exhausted
For to him, this was his fate
To live with his heart vaulted
Then one day
With his agnostic heart frosted
A tall blonde walked in
And in that moment, his heart melted
There was no skepticism
There was no fear
For in beauty he saw
His drab life made clear
So this a love story
About a man named Drew
His name was not Ted or Fred
That was the name of his two sons, mind you
He worked at a bank, good work for his age
He worked every day, from nine until noon
And with each long day
As he stamped and approved
He’d return to his wife
And say “I love you”
He’d give her a kiss as she told him of her day
And he’d pat the boys on the head
And this is what he would say
“My boys of which I am proud
Without your mother,
I’d stand here in a shroud.
I’d be lost, with nowhere to go.
But because of my family,
I am not alone
You are my happiness,
my strength and my joy
You are my pride
You are my boys
Now I want you to remember
When life gets you down
That life isn’t a game of numbers
Thinking that way will give a breakdown
Life isn’t a mystery, either
It’s actually quite simple
For when I was lost and an unbeliever
I met someone whose smiles had dimples
It’s about who you meet
It isn’t about what you do
It’s about your heartbeat
When you say “I love you.”

P.S.- The mother smiled in response
She also cried