The White Out

In a sudden state of conclusion,

a confusion,

an interruption of our


we were in a stirring rendition,

of love, of fun, of childhood,

when simply in the notice of our soul catcher,

we were told it is time to go home.


Now in the quiet of the day,

when laying back in my bedroom,

the familiar walls, the sounds,

static realities of my existence …

Now I can stand alone,

notice hanging on a wall nearby,

a dreamcatcher follows my eyes,

I suddenly do understand why.


A multitude of personality

spoke the knowledge of a few,

only to find some solace,

in the calm,

the storm that surged last night,

lays down a peaceful blanket,

a security to know we are never alone,

and instead just part of the circle,

that place where our lives,

measured amongst their lives,

and the lives of anyone whom nearby,

can hear my shout, her tear, his solemn plea,

we are all inside this dream catcher.


In matters of the soul,

we can cleanse our hearts in the grief

of our confusion,

in a thankful paradigm,

we might suggest,

perhaps another day,

because tonight everything is so fresh –

there is an ultimatum

in the sweet peace of love.


There is a cathartic happening today,

meant to suggest love,

in the confusion of wondering why,

it is his soul chosen today.

For all of our heartfelt passion,

for life and the responsive nature

of letting our lives speak loud,

for the loss of a mechanical truth,

suddenly surreal in His sensual sky,

we do know love today,

and the Creator has sung song today,

in the eyes of this Elder is the compassionate way,

we know love, we know love, is this day.

We Are Here, Again

When I was a child, I remember well,
the gathering of family, all indeed similar.
In the early morning anticipation, a spell
of wonder, love, then all arrived from afar.

Conversations were readily heard inside
the walls of a gathering of similar soul.
The children played a sweet naive pride,
allowed adults to know love, and be whole.

Tragedies occurred, stories of love replayed,
throughout our lives a similar world in now;
we are the eyes of elder, those who stayed.
The evolution of time, we are here, somehow.

While Eyes Remain

Shapes and sizes, designs

alter the world around us

give us all indicative signs

decaying lives incredulous


While eyes remain the key

Sheltered in shadows we see


A cosmetic journey it becomes

wardrobed fashion and trend

we all know how love succumbs

pretty lives in highlights defend


While eyes remain the key

Sheltered in shadows we see


Kiss the sunlight in olive

tones while our summertime

blues come crashing, we live

inside a day, perpetual climb.


While eyes remain the key

Sheltered in shadows we see


Lines begin to travel an unwind

across our bodies we see age

in all of its glory there to remind

us today is now our surreal sage.


While eyes remain the key

Sheltered in shadows we see


I walked alone inside a crowd

of onlooker seeking resolve

with how to still inspire proud

recollection of life’s absolve.


While eyes remain the key

Sheltered in shadows we see


Standing close you held hand

so while the sunlight blind me

I could once glance in the sand

in same young eyes, I could see.


Sheltered sweet soul we release

While eyes in love we find peace

That Life is Good

When waking to the morning sun

new breath to match quiet repose

one might wonder if this hour begun

could would help discover a suppose.


When tossing about the day’s activity

can we see far enough ahead to prevent

that sense of lost desire in proclivity

that sort of burrowing down we lament.


When we create the identity of our lives

might we also allow for humanity to say

no matter the beauty in mind that thrives

leave assurance to frailty in heart today.


We do in the condition of our state of mind

seek truth in constant battle without remind.

A Song Begins

I might be in a different place

yet that certain melody

no matter the pace

of my day, where I have landed,

when the notes cross my mind,

I can suddenly be there,

wondering still

while again the world around me,

continues to shift, to sway,

to say,

it is enough to know how our spirit lives,

yet to recall that special day,

is a completely different way

to suggest,

to want to become a mercilous soul

inside a dream.

Piano Solos


while the world rings true,

a glimmer, a hope, a dance

while this melody, a shape maker

presents an accidental shift

in memory.

Imagine the rise of delightful keys,

sweet muse

soft patterns of reality.


I listen to piano solos

for the breadth of tradition,

that notion spoken

in the hearts of many before me,

whose talented fingertips,

did create moments.

Awe, delight, tears, and genuine

sadness, perhaps simple delight,

triggered by a tempered key,

twists the mind around an obligation,


when just recently I wondered

only how, when I might release

my imagination,

I listened

the notes bold,

suggest my life is attainable,

as reaching the octave necessary

towards an understood element of survival;

an epiphany moves through my veins,

causing heart to blend –

the moisture outside,

while we wait,

will cleanse our sated soul.

State of Mind in a Decade

That’s when you left for real this time,

let me explain, you’d never left before, always there,

always nearby, no matter the miles,

a phone call, a letter, nearly an email,

whatever the venue, I could always count on you.

I think our lives are peculiar in their manner,

making us believe

people will be with us forever.

You had me convinced, so did he of course,

and then gradually the two of you …

I do hope and wonder,

imagine and try to ponder alone

in my own quiet reality,

I wonder whether you might be togetehr,

how things look for you,

I am curious if life is the same, just a different universe,

a universal theme of spiritual reckoning.

I know today how powerful the mind is,

so capable, so self-assuring to leave the human body,

behind … a burial ground exists to carry

the weight of our mechanical frailty.

Yet, out there, I heard a story the other day,

that when he was getting ready,

an old friend of week’s earlier,


said hello, and hoped he might hurry along.

I think that is rather fascinating here,

watching leaves on a tree blowing in the wind,

the nature of our lives sedentary,

while we allow our physicality –

a gradual decay.

Yet, here we are realizing the mind,

that precursor to the soul,

magical in its own anomaly,

plods on in steady march,

leaving us all wondering what next

chemical reaction,

will help guide our next steps.


I am delighted to speak with you again, it has been so long,

I miss you mom, I know today you see everything is real.

God’s Trappings

Take a stroll through my catholicism,

while my indoctrination of current thinking

results from the influences around me,

you, that person the other day, touched my soul,

without ever acknowledging you knew me.

I was there alone, in my everyday form:

citizenry, politely aloof, misdirected guidance,

wondering just how the day might evolve.

Along the way there are always many of you,

faces in the distant gathering of wavering souls,

all seeking, all rejoicing, all crying,

depends upon the day, the mood, the strike of the hour,

when we all might wonder this way,

are we ever going to truly understand why,

or is that it,

there it is again, that reality, that storm of

a reckoning response to years of confusion.

Are we all meant to simply stop asking?

Is that the faith thing she mentioned to me,

when in a failing moment, her last breath

soothed my fears, allowed me to feel again.

One More

Always that last moment,

when just before the landslide,

our footing grabs hold with a sort of, almost

what if, reality.

Soft is the response,


all of the unknown tragedy

will be left behind,

swept underneath the miles of concrete

laid along the way,

a surface texture,

that when imagined in a different time,

contains the soul of our reality,

that piece of almost,

that notion that suggests despair

isn’t always a necessary option,


well there is that second guessing target of


the piece of our world,

always waiting to suggest,

we weren’t wrong,

just way to quick to ask forgiveness.

Not what I mean really,

I know forgiveness,

yet, the territorial nature of my fears,

often impede my ability

to truly understand why.

I can never underestimate the power

of knowing why,

before I forget the reasons …

I still imagine you nearby with passionate eyes!

Recalling Distant Voices

A photograph brings me just back there,

that was my childhood, yours too, all of us real,

a time when we could rely on others

to hold our hands,

to brush away our tears,

to help our lives feel strong and worthy.

They would, she and he, glance upon our lives,

watching over with eyes faithful,

he, searching ahead, and she, with concern

to be sure all the time there would be


They did so well,

all of us, we are remarkable in elegance,

each with a story to share that creates memory,

love and design we had no control upon,

yet with every moment our soul might recognize,

our spiritual guidance always to share,

always to offer a guidepost

that allowed life to continue


I glance upon a picture in a frame,

that dust has collected on for many years,

yet the figures who hold court

in that most romantic manner,

continue to be that heart and soul of love,

each life in still photography yearns for another time,

when play was real, and spirits soar,

we are family,

you and I and everyone that will recall

certain pain will keep our smiles delightful,

a photograph is a memory,

brings to life a certainty,

a soulful,