Musings

poetry

Reincarnate

the night has a thousand voices and though their languages may all be different their meaning is the same. nothing is truly alone for all is connected, bonded for life and even after, for nothing ever really disappears. our molecules, our atoms combine, break apart, and combine again as something new, something different, shifting phases of existence. it is most literally a circle of life, continually turning, and ever changing.

Continue reading

poetry

Changing Channels

The remote clatters Back into The carefully carved Artisan bowl, Headless Of any damage Such brash treatment Might abide. The massive supernova Of a screen up on the stand Goes black, Devoid of power To distract her anymore. She picks up a book instead, Reading art Upon a page As if it were A canvas Upon A gallery wall. The infusion Of creative beauty So complete It moves the muse To begin To whisper Again.

Continue reading

poetry

Tomes In Spate

I hoard them. Stacked high, Pushed deep, Tilted And adjusted As puzzle pieces In a bookcase. Overflowing, Till they cascade, A waterfall of words, To pool at my feet In a comfort Of warm paper And hard covers, That smell of Knowledge Power Imagination And connection. Their allure, Their devastation, Flows against my soul In gentle undulations And violent tsunamis To move me both minutely And throw me upon rocky shores. Always Always Do they…

Continue reading

poetry

The Symphony of the Night

Lightning bugs flicker Like drops of stardust Floating on a summer breeze. A nightingale calls From its perch Among the trees. A weather-warped board Creaks under the weight Of a rocking chair. The citronella candles Gutter and spark briefly As a moth gives itself to the flame. The buzz of cicadas Pitches ever higher Until it is a deafening roar, Then stops dead Only to slowly build again. Coyotes call And are answered In the…

Continue reading

poetry

Humanity Is But A Bump In The Road

A concrete desolation. The air shimmers And ripples with heat. A hard, gray monotone Radiates outward, Paving the land over With the rubble of progress. But here And there Are saving graces. Dandelions growing Up through the cracks. Dragonflies swooping Through clouds of gnats. Hawks perched Atop high street lights. Raccoons tipping over Collections of garbage cans Before scurrying off Into the night. Nature waits, Silent and patient, For us to be gone. Ever ready…

Continue reading