Category: Poetry

The Stage

Stand with me

feel its energy

the many lives

some contrives

playing roles,

living lives.

I’m back inside

thinking about sets


moving moments.

For after all

the playwright

only asks we be true

to the words.

Stepping on again,

and feeling the energy,

the backdrops

and gobos,

all the different imagery

and dazzle goes into

creating moments.

Happy to hop along

this is where I belong.


a quiet walk

Life Story

A fairy tale

Once, we wail.

If one time we let go

Then we might know.

Beyond any wall

Glass slippers and all.

When then the wolf

Snarling and aloof

Would then our why

Cause no longer a cry.

If inside a dream

We no longer scream.

In the real world

Our stories are told.

Only then might the tale

Our solemnity cradle.


Where are we

out here?

My life feels

the weight.

Carrying burdens

of choice for years.

Not knowing ever

how stirred up we were.

Omniscient theories

cross my mind.


Could this be,

simple and free,

this is how life should be,

less the insecurity.


Could we talk in circles

until out of breath

life decides this outcome

without any need for input,

we would be

who we now wish to be.

Dreams Scream

Oh to be lost inside a dream,

to not awaken,

to live inside its stream,

to be less spoken.

For there is a journey then,

languishing in the story,

when then we wonder when,

we might this mystery.

Well one moment feel secure,

another takes a dive,

such a travel is obscure

our reality feel so alive.

I stayed inside with wish to scream,

oh, help me now outside this dream.

A Lazy Day

Begins with a silent rain

Streets damp

Cloudy skies

Deep resonate aroma

Favorite coffee blend

Perhaps a robe

Suits a mellow day

A happy mystique

Would venture close

Light some candles

Maybe pray today

Might the adventure

Be this peace in its way.

If Once

If once I could step away

I might always want today.

If once I could step away

I might find another way.

If once when the hurt began

I might finally be that man.

If once when the rain I ran

I might have believed I can.

For now I won’t take a stand

I’ll only hope I might land.

On Being

I posted a meme tonight about the essence of life, and what ought matter the most in our society, our world, our planet. The quote wasn’t my own. It appeared a scrawl on the side of a building like graffiti. It might have been photo-shopped but was effective. It spoke of how the planet doesn’t need more successful people, but instead needs more love and peace and healing. I was taken by it enough to believe it mattered.

I thought about it afterward and concluded with that age old question; what defines success in our lives? I think it meant being comfortable with ourselves to give to others rather than being wrapped up in having to prove our worth. Isn’t success simply being satisfied with who we are without measure? I found myself re-evaluating my life and once again treading the terrain of that slippery slope. What is my success story? I concluded it is undefined.

I have always had rough patches to go along with my happier moments. One would argue without the pain there would be less appreciation for the happier measures in our lives.

I have been through a difficult couple of years, times of which I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. So many cathartic miseries that somehow today are beginning to have positive meaning in my life.

So how do we measure success? How do I measure my own? Instead I would like to choose to live my life with the freedoms put before me. I would like to appreciate my life and the world around me.

That is my measure of success.