Loss Muse Poems

great expectations
anticipated in the 
poetic heart 
Havisham delivered
all and more for love, 
a separate unseen thief, 
tore the others’ worlds apart

webs like ectoplasm
from underneath a...

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My mind sets in motion, 
words that will come alive.  
Creativity needs to be added, 
then mix imagination with creativity. 

 
Coming alive within...

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Have you ever pondered
shadows are made of 
softness, they are not 
hard surfaced like 
those of us existing 
outside of the white noise

unable to grasp...

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My muse
Am I just another experience to you?
My beloved beauty, of divine grace
My soul, my heart, my mind, everything
All yours
You were everything to me
My waking...

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Tears of joy tears of pain
Years avoid the purple rain
Melodies haunting my brain
Riding me like red train

Satin tears gently fall
I can’t feel win or loss
Is...

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Meow...

I owe you an apology. Many apologies. 
I'm sorry for blocking you. 
I'm sorry for not being there.
I'm sorry for not being ready.  
I'm...

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When trauma lurks
with upper hand,
To fear death
is to know loss.

When therapy
lends Her feminist sway
to know
and co-invest in life
is to predict
and cherish love.

For both these reasons,
we...

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"Heel"

Another language speaks its truth
one’s truth is another’s war
Agamemnon and his achilles

to heel a virtue
to heal a cause
such an odyssey

styx and stones
Clytemnestra, silent 
spartan subdued

a...

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"The Crow Bar"

she said,
here I bury my dead,
you can hear them sleeping
somnulent forget-me-nots,
snoring blithely unaware,
in neat rows between 
the thick,
ink injected lines,
their soiled lives
ploughed and...

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"Random Acts of Kindness"

you send the devil 
his reassurances 
of forgiveness 
through love
the blindness
corresponded
some generous
catharsis 
in a moment
of delusion
the sticky web 
nullified
words sent 
words received
morse...

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In a place where hearts don’t mend
There were dreams that faded, never waiting
For the light to fall across their night, there bold, black
Fear, the apprehension...

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The flocks of birds, the herds of sheep
The rivulets,  pastures all there Weep
The boats of hope sank downy deep
My country folk nor wake or...

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Lost Art

There was a time
when we waited eagerly
for the mailman -
when mail deliveries 
had actual mail in them
 
There were real 
hand-written letters 
from parents,
cousins,...

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The writer in me says I must be,                 ...

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My Muse 

This muse – personal trainer of my pen,
 This restless spirit pacing in imagination’s sanctuary,
Gathers fleeting moments into anticipation’s tabernacle
Swaddles divine laughter, brooding...

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