Prose Poetry Poems

At Gethsemane

An unusual heaviness hung in the air.
  The wind didn’t stir, 
no single leaf fluttered.
       The dead weight of engulfing darkness pressed on.
     It was a fateful night, horrible and stark !

As a monument of misery, walked Jesus
      

Love and Becoming

Nanaya: 
“Self love - bereft of sin, beseeching and riveting in my spirit, jumps over me in the power of expression. Each twirl of my spirits dance radiates an effervescent power directed at my overcoming. What do I overcome? Suffering my youth, my age, my indiscriminate desire to give up. Yet, there is life in

Father's Dream

Father’s Dream  
---------------

The dream is truly dear,
Yet so difficult to fulfill.

My father would sit
in the courtyard,
and say with content in his words,
with a blush of satisfaction,

“I will make my son study, write,
and grow into a virtuous child.”

I cannot avoid the walls made of mud,
the thatched roof is fine,
In the dark room,
I look here and

Silent kiss

I loved you. 
I know asking you to love me back is not what love is about. With you I’ve seen what true love is all about. Forgiving you in the gravest of situations and picking up the pieces of us even when it hurts my hand. With you I’ve seen what love is not

Summer's End

Summer’s End

The sun begins to set a little earlier now—
a gentle breeze brushes past my suntanned face and
I walk briskly on the sand which feels cool beneath my feet.
My pace quickens, like the prance of a Cat on the prowl.

Once home, the trees which line the street on which I live
stand majestically tall.  No

Proposal 1

What does it mean to be the next flower to fall after the garden fence is reinforced with tears from the street?

GOD IS EVERYTHING

the universe,
the air,
nature,
thought,
the void,
the full,
the eternal,
the whole,
creation,
existence,
non-existence
the before,
the after,
matter,
antimatter,
spirit,
the ethereal
the pre-life,
life,
the afterlife
good,
peace
omniscience
omnipotence
omnipresence!
I cannot proclaim more than this now
I lack greater vision and light than I hope for in God
more feeling and wisdom...

The Madman

Sunshine and revelry steeped the day like sweet tea dripping over a glass's edge. Overflow dribbling down rejuvenated the laughter of the gut and burst forth into an excess of jubilation. The cup wants to be filled with adulation for the man to drink; the man is a goblet steeped by the day. Over him

souffle silencieux et amour

The expectations of the heart bound the passions in a silent breath, holding within the roots of flowered lungs – the grandiose applause beating against ribcages. It reverberates with aching and longing to be heard. A silent breath holds the hand of a lover yearning to be seen, to be reciprocated. The expectations of the

A True Story

One need only open an old chest, or turn on a light in an attic, to journey back in time. Every scrap of clothing, old photograph is a life and a history. Essence remains.
     As I often write at night, while many of a more rational world slept -- pacing, muttering

A silent gardener

A man keeps planting flowers in a place no one visits.

It's not that the place is heavily guarded so no one can enter.
Or that the place is so complex, like love, many people are afraid to give it a chance.
It's not like that.

It is just an easy path to cross over to see that place

Knight in White

Watch the leaves swim in the wind
As Autumn’s corners unfurl
And as we sail on
On the face of reflective waters
In our relationship
Just you and I now empty nesters
No one to pester us
(but we miss drinking from the scuttlebutt) 
As we greet and kiss the morning 
(And each other)

Now I'm her knight in white
And she's my bride

Young Widow

I’ve sold winter coldness to those who’re huge in their chests oncorners of these abandoned streets, where bars aren’t happy with myfootprints in front of every door. Where I hit myself at close range. Where I pay a price to win no game. However, she’s worked all her lifeto bring up all her children within

Citizen John

Am I a foul fellow when the house is longer than this morning? Am I the designer of the living room that doesn’t encourage formality, because we’re associated with rigid boundaries? I’m the next citizen of an affluent hovel. I’ll be the next coastal lowland along any gulf & hearing your voice, pattering on every

A Pub Halfway to the Heavy Affair

The largest part of this abandoned warehouse

for creative dilemma is still in the ash medium

from you reach.

Though you’ve part of this morning haze that won’t go unrecognized.

Now that we’ve finally managed to right away ahead of our views across the bridge, it seems that elsewhere you’ve made every effort to prove yourself with your wrongly

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