Best Hewn Poems

Part I: Ice

He shines like silver midnight moon -
cool marble statue, this tycoon.
And though he makes the ladies swoon,
of ice he’s hewn; of ice he’s...

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He just appeared to me, like wispily curling 
Chimney smoke, 
One grim and early morning in the very midst of 
Decembers briefest days, on the...

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Let me own the Night 

Let the others play on bright sun-filled days,
in song and merriment, play on.

Let me own the shadows that seep into...

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Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth Century artifact
By ancestors hewn

Earth’s history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions

Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones
To greet early...

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Cherokee chamber,
where a pow wow stampeedes preconceptions of inheritence,
from Her beaded neck charms of chance & chains of change
glisten from opulent offerings of roots, corn...

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The hutch 
like everything else in this house is
crooked.  A slanting hardwood floor 
and the burnished ends 
of an ancient table. 

An ever rounding...

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To hear me would sound like a symphony of octaves –
played all at once with concrete fingers
on diamond in the rough strings.

To see me…O’, to...

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When the night wind changes course
sending breezes from the north,
when farmer's fields lie brown and fallow
and empty ropes swing from the gallows,
when children's faces are...

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"To The Moon And Back"

Once, in a blue moon, true love comes along 
Surpassing all limits...growing so strong...
That each beating heart breathes in, the same...

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Door o’ green

The door of green it stands ajar,
I enter here in a dream, so far,
A rough hewn table, here it sits,
Big yellow candle splutters...

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Maples shed their trembling leaves, 
the scorch of daylight dies and evening drips 
in pools of reddish hue as I bereave the absence 
of my...

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(Inspired by Wordsworth's poem of the same title)

The stratus clouds that mingle hand in hand,
nor lacy cirrus feathers stretched on high,
can stay the gaze of...

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Autumn winds chant a soulful tune
Elusive songs they choose to play
as maple branches bend and sway

Aspen trees drop their leaves too soon
Hues of umber, amber...

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Stars fall under failing skies...stars fall...stars fall...
And sadly...i start to drive.
Through the unremarkable village with its tall 
Georgian Bay window panes, lightless,
devoid of visages; outwardly...

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Somewhere in the Appalachian Hills quilted with love
there are cottages and curtains clothes on sills, quilted with love.

Up high in deep where electric wires don't...

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