Whisper My Name

To be heard

By her magic symphony

I am the audience

She the mystery


Oh, to know the many

Value of this body of mystique

The waves lapping shoreline

Only to be heard.


I wonder the soul

She keeps in quiet harmony,

The many lives, the sea men

Leaving wives and children home


Would we the living

Ever really understand

Why such stark reality

Beckons her command.


On occasion my passion

Would be the horizon

By which nature’s remedy

Harmonize sweet melody.

Listen to My Muse

What drives the soul, this early autumn morning

when all the task of our lives looms the horizon

how is it a crystal clear sunrise with pastel blues

treats the mind a solace of desire to admire.


I would if it were true leave all that is abhorring

well behind the mantra of ‘if when’ a decision

could allow our hearts to freelance the news

only listen to the beauty of human nature.


While we recall the subliminal query crying

could perhaps our lives become this vision

we have passion, we climb magical views

to discover an inner peace, new adventure.


While the morning sunlight lit my fragile face

I could then decide this inspiration to embrace.

Haunting Reality

While we await the outcome

Panic settles time’s revenue

Men and women respond together

Careful to walk alongside fear

Share the moment and seize the pain

Or isolate and begin the reign


Of caution

Of trepidation

Of ridiculous burden

Of what driven force did all this begin?


A conversation

A look

A glance

A mere response to a notion


My that reality can be refreshing

When tangible evidences exists


Clarity of the mind

Rather than the insidious

Displacement of human kind


Fractured and isolated


Step forward

Glance backward

Push away

Pull upon

Walk further

Run beyond

Slide ahead

Slip behind


Only to remind ourselves

Once again

At this very time we delve

Deeper within

A heartfelt passion

To embrace our nature


Human idiosyncratic response

Willed mystique remain in question

Moon Light Mix


time in notion

when circles reflect a passing star

way down in the heartland

we be walking a journey

getting from that place to a destination

while our ideas and thoughts

collide with the events of the day

At first we reflect

on the lunacy of our fears

that conversation

that interaction

that needed confrontation

when our worlds

recognized one reality

we might yet

not get it so quickly

in fact a cloud of judgement

may distract our clarity

and the walk continues

now a stroll and we appreciate

darkness in all its lustre

allowing mystique

to embrace our held hand

scenario of exploring

the neighborhood – sort of speak.

I would like to realize the nature

of a moon’s full amber assault

on my quiet suburban lifestyle

Widening Mystery? Mortality

How do we control

Our dying elders last days?

Why the mystery that

Leads to finality

Of a person’s spirit

Their ability

to give us hope while

a certain knocking occurs

and each step in that direction

we try to control

we try to justify

to indicate our own soul

remains reliant upon their

quiet repose.

My confusion

Is constantly reminded

By the actions of God

We can’t decide when

Our moment is upon us

We can only pretend to believe

That it doesn’t happen yet

And when it does

We are left feeling afraid



All over again

Wondering what key

Remains to resolving


Now the sky is darkening as clouds

Journey across the horizon bearing shrouds.