Best Oil Poems

It was about seven in the morn as the sun was starting to rise
Unbeknown to the folks of Milton Creek they were in for a...

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Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s...

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between the plant pots and the trays
the cobwebs had seen better days
and for all the wood and damp and soil
the smell was one of paint...

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I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I

i think of you

I wish someone could...

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Oh beloved,
I'm like Rumi without Shams.
A shivering summer soul,
secretly stalked by wild white winter wolves.
A chiffon child chiselling chimerical calligraphy,
cursed with invisible ink, silent in...

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All lovely words
when understood

All so misconstrued
silence envelopes our delusions

Desire, we lust the attention
at the forfeit of philosophy

Love, we crave at Kings expense
	at times
		Sacrificing those whom...

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Between the whispers and the sighs

The sweet taste of champagne,
still lingers on her lips
The fragrance of jasmine oil,
slides from her fingertips

I know that I'm ready...

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For Brother Jacob, our fellow poet,
who lives his life
real and true to the call of God:

COME INTO MY HOUSE LORD

Come into my house Lord.
Anoint my...

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“I know my heart will never be the same
But I'm telling myself I'll be okay”
Sara Evans

My heart no longer
beats the same,
as I’ve wiped away 
tainted...

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The day Will Shepard shot my dog
His barn burned to the soil;
The flames licked at the Autumn sky,
The smoke as black as oil.
I dropped the...

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In vertigo of night, in their riddled trance 
Boldness of petals melt on washed-out shades,
As faces etch a quiet gloom in varied hues
Capturing splashed oil,...

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DEDICATED TO EVERY PERSON WHO QUESTIONED THEIR SELF WORTH BECAUSE SOMEONE THEY LOVED LEFT THEM



Love grabbed me by the throat with both hands
Choked away the...

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Someone who knows
Said You were an old ancient Tree,
But at the time, it didn’t really matter, 
Or seem important to me.
I knew You only for...

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We strolled hand in hand
along Naples cobbled streets
beneath nearly blown- off linen sheets
Hanging  from old  balconies.

Street musicians played their bagpipes
ciaramellas,mandarins
In this southern bustling...

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Yes, that is the role of the Teacher, as Shams was to
me – showing one ‘who they are’, so they can stop
bleating, crying at night,...

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