Living Poetry

I am living,
liquid ink.

Pooling and
sleek tears
from a
black place,
I move as
smoke, curling
a sweet message

Dancing through
grass, sunlight
plays on me,
grace embodied.

I live where
you only pretend
in dreams, music,

I am a cat,
a hungry poem.
Feed me.

Autumn Girl

The woman in the
paper cup
looked up.

Her still brown
eye met mine
the other too
gazed past
at the star
swirling night.

She smiled so I
whispered slow
‘who will I
be, where will I

My coffee cold
turned black to gold
to show a girl
under a bejeweled
tree with falling
red and amber leaves.

‘Not spring, where
new hope sings?’

One eye dimmed
her voice a
cosmic wind
‘In the endless flight
of a brilliant
leaf just before
winter’s night.’

‘Not summer in
radiant heat?’

‘No’ the light
in her eye
glinted deep.
‘But not in
winter’s sleep.’

With this thought
to keep, the coffee
took her black
and deep.

I left the cup
I had drunk too much.

Now I know
I’m falling slow
the afternoon light
kissing through trees
has never moved me
with such


Crash Landing


Snowball red
Burns past trees
Icy ski slope

A hidden hill
Weightless air
I soar, landing

Staring up
Blue sky
A calm quiet
Waking hands
Rescue warm
Burning ice
Skin pink
Raw alive
Do you miss the ski

The rush of flight
Succumbs to snow
I miss that quiet

This poem came from reflections on rushing through life- is it really those fast adrenaline-filled flights we will look back on? Though I have enjoyed fast downhill runs, sometimes those quiet moments where we can’t do anything (trapped in snow) bring a unique and deep calm.

Elements of Love

Red sun lifts
As smaller loves
Butterfly flames
Lit with silk
Kisses catch
Fire until only
Ashes remain.

Yellow sun beams
As lesser loves fly
Phoenix wings sing
Golden tails
Soar high
Leave earth and
Freeze, scatter
Back to ground
Frozen fire
Broken ice
Without a sound.

Dark glacial seas
Kissed by red
The morning ice
Sings reflections
Roused from
Winter sleep
For just a minute
Until a braver day.

A lesser heart may weep
For a brighter signal
Not these warm whispers
Slow, constant and eternal.