Written Poems

the ending re-written

The Ending

The only tree left in the  whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors 
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light, and the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs

A Masterpiece Written in Dreams

My fingers are already aching,
their muscles weary, spent, and tired.
Sweat soaks through my singlet,
my eyes grow heavy, begging for sleep,
to pay back seventy-two hours denied.

Yet each of my writes lies in his bin,
the sponsor never seems to tire
of casting them there with careless joy.
Perhaps that brings him most delight—
a cross my restless heart must bear.

Would

Deja Vu, A Love Written in the Stars, A Musical Video Duet

Deja Vu – A Love Written in the Stars 

Plato tells us that in the beginning, humans were created with four arms, four legs, and two faces. Fearing their strength, Zeus split them apart, leaving each to wander the earth in search of their missing half. I prefer to believe the more romantic truth —

this poem has been written for the lute

or the spoons
but read it accompanied by something
the French horn
the harpsichord
the balalaika at the bus stop
the burping of a favourite uncle
on the runway as passenger planes take off around you
the Saturn V rocket launch was a clanger to the metal munchies
i mean i could go on
but i won't, because going on would be going on
the

Bold Words, Written or Spoken

Using bold words written or spoken ~ cannot fix in you what's broken

Boldly bouncing back from the cliff's edge ~ will prove dangerous on any ledge

I haven't written anything truly meaningful in a while, my soul is silent

I haven't written anything truly meaningful in a while, my soul is silent,
So, could you speak to me a little more, give me a voice through your presence?
It’s not about selfishness, but the ink in the pen yearns for your attention, it trembles,
It desires you, more intensely than I do, in a silent dance of

A Poem I Should Have Written But Didn't

I walked a quiet road at dusk,
Where frost lay silver on the grass,
And in the stillness, words I sought
Some startled birds would rise and pass.

They brushed my cheek, they touched my hair,
Then vanished into fading blue;
I thought of you, old friend of snow,
Who spoke to silence, stern and true.

Your lines were fences in the mist,
Your

Written On Hearts and Minds

On a tablet of stone,
Mankind was made known,
A covenant of laws to abide.
Not a place remaining to hide.
Sinful nature that leads to death.
Come seek God who created breath.
On a foundation of sand,
Was written one shall not stand.
The storms, wind, and waves.
But by the One who rose from the grave.
For all have sinned and shall not

Good Morning Prayers

Dear Lord Jesus

You're my friend and You are my brother even though You are a King,
I love You more than any other and my soul belongs to you.
You're my Rock and You're my Shield to You alone will I gladly
Yield.  As the deer pants for the water, so my soul does long
For You.

I 

AI is Destroying The Written Word

                            I want to weep
             at the destruction of poetry
that comes now with the use of

In all the books of history written with ink of blood and dried tears

In all the books of history written with ink of blood and dried tears,
There is no war that was not hatched in the shadow of palaces of power,
Governments alone, like birds of prey sharpening their claws in silence,
Independent of the hearts of people, for whom war is always poison.
How many generations have marched on dusty

Written in Silence

Some souls don’t chase the blinding stage,
They live between the lines of age.
Not carved for fame, nor shaped by fame,
But born to set the stars to flame.

I wrote a script in desert sand,
A tale of fire, of heart, of land.
Dubai lights danced upon the sea—
And in that dream, she came to me.

Her steps were soft,

healing words already written

time

and seeming aging

affects us all

that's the story

told and told

convincingly yet

appearing with

a healing emptiness

appearing as these

words

Limericks Written In A Country Churchyard

There once was a sensitive vicar,
who said, "I'm not one to bicker,
but the peal of that bell,
makes me feel quite unwell,
and plays merry hell with my ticker."

An incensed old soul by the spire,
preaching incense-igniting to the choir,
exclaimed, "There is but one catch,
when striking a match,
don't set your surplice on fire."

A parson spoke from the nave,
"Spend

At thirty-eight, his story seemed to have already been written

At thirty-eight, his story seemed to have already been written,
he sipped his coffee and recalled where he went wrong or maybe got it right,
for he had grown tired of the insurance game, of small offices with glass walls,
of clients who came and went like faceless, soulless shadows.
He was weary of the lies told to his

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