**Every House Holds a Story**
Every house conveys a story,
Each narrative unfolds layers of history.
Years of unspoken truths can influence our future,
Regardless of how carefully they are hidden.
Unlike the enigmatic identity of the Mona Lisa,
Some tales may be wiser, left unvoiced.
Within each home, there can linger unhealed heartache.
Every room serves as a subtle reminder of the past.
Once a heart is broken, the healing journey can be arduous.
Misinformation and concealed truths can foster a persistent sense of unease.
We all desire representation in our government,
A voice that advocates for our interests.
However, the onus for change rests with us,
your voice trails behind me
lost in the shadows of the hallways
silence amidst the din of existence
colors hold no warmth
dawn only brings time moving
watching the children in the park
lost in the joy of playground entertainment
the future has a secure ambiance
a smile wanders across my face
it is a painting hanging in a gallery
your voice trails behind me
lost in the shadows of the hallways
there are no real mysteries to life
only answers in the cauldron
then you walk into the room
and the enchantment in life returns
as Van Morrison wrote
have I told you lately, i love you
conveys the deepest love we share
the breath of Creation
Oregon 9/5/26
An empty room that sings,
Songs that open the door to the light,
Songs that heal wounds,
Keeping the night at bay.
An absence that is a presence,
Melancholy is the rhythm of the nothingness,
A silence that conveys different songs,
Two rivers flowing into one body.
An empty room that uncovers memories,
Memories of loneliness and solitude,
Words stream from its depths,
Arranged in lines and verses.
A room that echoes a departure,
A silence that gnaws at the mind.
I step out of the room,
Into the daylight of tranquillity and hope.
August 9, 2026.
Thoughts of a glass as half empty
will make some feel they are denied.
The missing part suggests a loss
that aches the way they feel inside.
Conversely, though, to think half full
denotes that they are getting some.
The word and mind as one will work
to render each an inverse sum.
The word like empty strikes a nerve-
helps a pessimist to crash-dive.
But full conveys to satisfy-
to make the optimist high-five!
A whistling kettle of alluring mauve,
A steaming cup of tea that conveys love.
Sunlight dancing upon a polished floor,
While gentle breezes whisper at the door.
Wrapped within a blanket, downy and worn,
Reading into the silence of the morn.
These little echoes of a quiet grace,
Turn the cottage into a resting place.
I dive headfirst into Masonite’s wood fibers
compressed baked & primed
blending boundaries of life,
lightning and death’s
cycle of pain in paint
as a path to tranquility treading
through inner turmoil of vibrancy
A hummingbird in her shell breaks away
the triaged torment
for a moment, quietus cabaret on
cacti untamed canvas
conveys an observer in one’s
own collard greens
Tehuana traditional gown
from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec
ripe reds & burnt orange
Oiled in, the gods Xolotl,
guard dog portrayed
Aztec god & fertility goddess
Motherly milky way
flanking figures,
a fiery orb of the sun
& the cool, silvery moon
dualities of balance
Fresco muralist Diego Rivera
cuddled infantile by Kahlo,
adorns a frontal lobe’s
opened third eye
& wears Buddha’s mouth
apprises of oriental wisdom
both his & hers
naïve folk art
enveloped in a cosmic
love embrace of the universe
TRIPTYCH EXPERIENCES
portrayed
surrounded
now
repotoire
recited
recalls
questioning
the formulae
to
stimulate
subjectivity
delicious
luminous
dialogue
in
bizarre
graduated
contrasts
with unbridled
shades
predominantly
prevailing
afresh
in sensitive
hesitant
scenarios
passionate
unreachable
role-play
studies
of
facial
splendour
in
lavish
concept
a
formulated
process
to
conveys
a
quiet relaxed
series
carefully
fronted
emphasis
balanced
precise
awareness
with
vital
counterparts
in
closely
occasioned
devices
Damp —across the fulcrum of the
Wheel of this month —May;
It creaks the cog of
Time and the energy of age.
No reverence for the parvenu or the
Rope-climber.
It has often been bleak and cold. . .
Tallow from candles weeps in the vigil
Held between fractured hours and
Hatching days,
Burning slowly among the wax community,
And sparking off bashful flames of dry grief.
When April comes forth, the ground softens,
But when May peeks lustfully into the calendar,
With the cunning of the invading spider,
The ground sinks towards the dig of
The metallic hewers of the trembling earth.
May conveys silence and the rage of deep inquests
Into the hasty departure of a covey of youths —
Mere striplings with the flying courage of migrating terns.
A lawn full of weeds a mouth full of words,
clean them up leave behind the essential.
Floating through the air flying whirlybirds,
fragile can still gain control of that ball.
It’s okay when they’re broken in to thirds,
at times things need to stay confidential.
Fine image that conveys it’s kept after,
that eloquence was built to protect her.
For what conveys an air of
Chic sophistication
Romantic-lamped, but highlights
Its walks, beauteous
The Paris of our shared dreams
Is glowingly realised.
Wrapped in whose soft kind of light
Is gauzy-glamourous.
she has converted her grief into silence
inside she is shrieking with rage
her outside is undeniably calm
she was taught to not have emotions
she is an expert at this
others attempt to coax her to share her feelings
she is a bonfire, ready to explode
taught by a midwestern mother, she knows better
emotions are a sign of weakness
they can be used against you
her face conveys no hint of her distress
she grieves alone
feeling discarded and destroyed
thinking about doing away with herself
sharing nothing
Upon the steamy broth of words we feed,
A spoon of sonnet’s spice, a pinch of rhyme.
Each simmered thought, a poet’s secret seed,
Stirred gently through patient hands of time.
The flavors mix—metaphor, verse, and sound—
In bubbling cauldrons, meaning softly sways.
Within the bowl, lost syllables are found,
And every line a seasoning conveys.
How savory the blend of joy and pain,
When seasoned hearts compose the lyric stew.
From humble roots, a feast of art we gain,
Where every taste and tone is rendered true.
So gather 'round this meal of crafty strains,
Poetry soup forever feeds our brains.
Invisible Scars
Invisible scars aren't always perceivable
tothe bare eyes.
Typically undetectable and concealed,
Visible and Invisible.
Choices were made not forced at hand.
Every scared conveys a story of strength
And survival.
Revealing one's situation doesn't implies
You're telling your business.
It's to exhibit one's invisible scars so
that others may notably know therefore
One can heal.
A dancer and actor, Patrick Wayne Swayze
Captivated many with dancing skills he conveys
Football he would have pursued but he got an injury
Starring in Dirty Dancing, his dancing skills seemed gingery
The mind glows with fleeting passion,
sparkles with euphoria sequins transient,
conveys by radiant cadence evanescent
the rational notion undeniable....
everything has a time to come and go.
Sub Categories
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