Hues of Sunset…


Twin butterflies,

dancing in the

sunset’s gleam in

the heated breeze

they sway, free of

their cocoons now

they stray.

Farewell they bid to

a disappearing day,

earth, air, light, the

sound of the sea;

their charm always

a mystery.

Hues of the far-away

sphere, they float to great

heights, gather among

the stars and disappear

into the night.






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The Gates…

I am death, covered

by the blood of life’s

victims, the peace

loving, the innocent

and the brave, silenced;

they lay with me here

in the grave.

The living stands in cold

silence, regret, moans on

every breath, living souls

that cannot keep away

the fear of death.

In the voices of life, there

could be heard prayer,

prejudice and dismay;

whether hate or fate, all is

now with me at “Heaven or

Hells” gate!






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Writers Block…

Sleep, never-ending conscious,

thunder, spray dashing against

the windowpane, in the distance

railroad cars, clang, clang, clang.


Sleep, gulls screaming float through

the air, wild and free, diving into

the white frothy waves, living without

a care.


Sleep, ghost trampling upon the mind

and soul, brushing shoulders with

death they surge across time wanting

their story told.


Sleep, wanting the body to relax, flip

right, flip left; the noise of the world

springs from every nerve, wistfully let

there be silence, calmness come back,

come back, come back.


Sleep, brooding, daggers in the back, rise,

dress, the night will never be soothing;

those words in the head keep moving,

mind in a rage sitting silently staring at

the blank page.





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The Moment…


Broken winds from the

slow hand of God lifts

waves ever moving

surging towards some

crystalline shore.


The evolution of change,

moving forward toward

the end, the scaling of old

skin, leaving only a shadow

of the imperfection of life.


New, newer, seasons never

turning back, blooming into

tomorrow, searching in a

colored cloud of being.


Enlightening the darkness,

alone, unafraid; stained by

time; it is time to be free, in

truth it is time to take root in

“the now”.   




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The Firestorm…


In the western skies;

the sun delays leaving,

still radiant giving off a

feeling of peace.

The smoke from the fire

beyond the hills cast a

blushing haze toward the


Shadows rise around the

barren knolls where no

birds sing, the air thick

black and menacing.

The sun gives false

serenity, as death befalls

the burning Forest.


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A silent shore,

seductive Moon,

a sinister Sea,

clouds in the wind,

a shadow lies upon

the white sand alone.


Stilled on the sparkling

crystals, almost villainous,

primeval and water worn

with broken sides.


Once imperturbable, aloft

upon white shafts of waves,

beautiful and bold, now

ancient and vacant.


The old sailing ship found its

burial ground upon a deserted

island covered in the mist of








Beyond the Voices


Dragonfly… (Micropoetry)


Behold, flitting in and out of the

prairie grass into the sunlight,

then back into the shadow of the

wildflowers again.  Can you hear

whispering, Dragonfly is my name;

I am one of God’s angels.  A voice

lost in the silence of death, I live far

beyond the prairie grass, and I visit

here to tell those who love me that

although the earthly body is gone…the

soul and love last forever.


I am the Dragonfly!