along this path….

Image by CWMartin

the sounds of the day
faded into footsteps
along a leaf covered path
each step marking
a memory to be forgotten
a love
  now gone
a child
a death
  all too soon
a pain
  lingering too long
each step
weighing more
  than the last
along this path
was buried a dream
a childhood fantasy
that love
cure all evil
but that died
long ago
now only
a poem
its grave



Copyrighted Image by John Holmes (

stare beyond
the tangled branches
of your past
into the sunrise
of the new day
behold the array
of colors
that mark
the wonders of the day
embrace it
like no other
with the new dawn
hold it
as dear

read carefully…

be advised
there is no
operational manuals
have been provided
are available
in several languages
manuals are compatible
most belief structures
after starting
handle yours carefully
since there is
a no return policy


when the night winds blow…

Years ago while I was wander through a European museum, I came across a poem that been jointly written by several artists.  It was quite fascinating to think about the possibility of writing a poem with another author and trying to conceive how that might work.  Well at the suggestion of River Urke, we have down just that…wrote a poem together over the  course of a week. She would write several lines and then I would write several lines…using each others lines as a prompt  for the next few lines.  This is our first attempt and I must admit it was fun and a very worthwhile experience for me.

pandor’s jar…

Image by Toni Cross

as usual
missed the point
of what the gods
had said
it was
a jar
a box
nor do we know
whether it was the scent
apple blossoms
that tempted her
to open the it
but open it
she did
and into the world
poured the foul smells
of hate
and war
shaped as pools of tears
spinning beneath the jar
whirling into all times
a milkyway fear
and remorse
so she grasped the lid
and trapped hope within
and hid the jar
for fear
of what else
was within
but hope
was all that was left
and to this day
it remains within the jar
if we could
but find the jar
hope could be freed
and we
could be
as we
were meant
to be
of life’s

My friend Toni Cross presented a challenge to me today…’write a poem for this photo of mine’…I of course sent her one of my photos with the same challenge…above you find her photo and my poem.   

hands of the begger….

outside the hotel
at nightfall
sat a woman
in a door way
of a closed shop
sitting alone in the night
on this half deserted street
at the gates of the medina
where earlier hundreds
moved with purpose
to lunch appointments
closing business deals
gathering wealth
like bees gather honey
but now they were home
warm and sheltered from the night
but she
she has come out
as if embarrassed to be seen
in the light of day
asking for alms
for her generation
did not do so lightly
only in dire need
would one make such a request
and once no one would have refused
such a call for mercy
for they understood what courage it took
to make such a request
but things are modern now here in tunis
and many do not recall such acts of bravery
but i a foreigner understood this
for i have read their history
and so as i place the coin
into her warm hand
she grasp mine with hers
and i was blessed ten fold


half awake i wander through my day
sometimes dreaming
sometimes fearing
the corners of my own thoughts
as if there were some evil there
(it’s just a childish nightmare…)
all i ‘ve sought was love
not always that with passion
but that love which is willing to give
not decreed to be given
by some collared representative of god
(it’s just a childish wish…)
my body seems formless one moment
caught in a repeating nightmare
floating with only the sound of my heart beat
then vibrant like the sound
a morning sunrise should make
alive with all the  wonders of life
like a child seeing his first parade
(it’s just a childish vision…)
i’m caught in this cycle
i ‘m the board which holds the anchor of the ship
and although the rest of the ship is gone
i am bound to these shores
crashing upon the rocks at low tide
and floating freely in the waves at high tide
(it’s just a childish sensation…)
soon the sea will rust these chains
and i shall float freely
without being held to these shores
till then
i must hold fast to what can be
and live with what is
and wander with the ebb and flow
that has brought me to these shores
(it is just the fate of men…)

portrait of a sleeping child…

prayers complete
deep breaths
eyelids flutter
no need for me to wait
except to stare
into the day that was
there are no fears here
no tears
just a child
resting within the arms of  love
no time but now
who shall ever believe
that such peace is real
close your eyes
recall those days
without fears
without tears
i am here
next to you
can you hear me
the nightlight’s on
gentle touch of yesterday
when love was real
got no need for what will be
just a caress of how it was
reaching for stars
a child’s embrace
do you recall the night’s touch
like a hand so small
so warm with hesitation
without bad dreams
or fears of tomorrow
walk slowly
to the doorway
as not to miss the moment
walk away
but look back
inside there is a need
not addressed
good night my friend
my love
my child
good night

simply say…

let us laugh together
and join our hearts
in song
let us not go
into the hills
and count
the endless hours
to which we shall succumb
let us embrace
wayward winds
and dance
upon a velvet mist
let us touch
each blade of grass
and answer
each cricket’s call
that we might
forget the day
to which our souls
are tied
that day of death
let minds not
become too heavy
with the thorns
and thistles of thought


let us say
joy is what i seek
i have gone
to crush the daisies
in the may