From “Rip Van Winkle” page 3



The great error in composition

Was an aversion to all profitable labor.

Not from the want of perseverance;

For he would fish all day,

Carry a fowling piece on his shoulders for hours.

He would never refuse to assist a neighbor,

And was ready to attend to anybody’s business

But his own.

His children were ragged and wild.

He, however was one of those happy mortals;

Who take the world easy and

Whistled life away

In perfect contentment.



poetry marathon 2019 final prompt


Dear Little Vicki

You are worthy.

You always have been.

You always will be.

Believe in yourself

And the blessings that come.

They are not accidents.

They do not need to be questioned.

You will one day be loved.

Don’t second guess it,

Don’t test it just to see.

Accept it as true.

Do not look for validation in all you do.

You think that you need it,

But you don’t.

You are beautiful the way you are.

Please don’t let the pain you’ve known

Guide who you become.

Pain only brings pain, and

You’ll throw the beauty away.

And please remember, above all else

I see you,

I know you,

I love you.

At the end of day



A hush falls over the city streets

As the fog rolls in from the fishing bay.

A stray moonbeam spotlights a lonely old man

Still casting his line, still dreaming away.


In his left hand he clenches a silver canteen

Filled with coffee or liquor, nobody can say.

Maybe he’s taken his hopes off the shelf

And in that canteen, he’s stored them away.


He shivers with cold as the fir that he wore

Slips down to the dock in decay.

That concrete, the scaffold he mounts every night

Is a damned horrid place of dismay.

As I Lay Dying

The morning sun rode bright and strong in the bluest sky that was ever seen.

The gentle breeze blew through the leaves of summertime in glorious green.


The sweetest tunes of songbirds rang through rolling hills and meadows gay.

Rivaled by the melodious sound of children laughing while at play.


A day of promise, of things begun; a day when all the world seemed new.

Yet in the shadows where no one saw, a raven over a hilltop flew.


On a branch it perched looking over its prize, knowing the time to feast was near.

The world was drunk on beauty and joy; and as I lay dying, there was no one to hear.


The silvery moon graced the starlit sky, as exquisite day became heavenly night.

And as lovers enveloped themselves in sweet bliss not a soul, not a one sensed something not right.


On the day that I left, the world carried on.

Never scathed, never changed, never ceasing its song.






A home is a place
Of love, acceptance,
Peace, and security.

Your arms are
My home, my solace
My peace, and my life.

I can’t live without you.

On the theme of “ghost lives” (from the song)


Another day over, another day gone
With nothing to show for and nothing else done.
No closer to winning or leaving the maze.
Another brief moment that’s lost in the haze.

So stuck in today, never pausing to think
Tomorrow’s another today on the brink.
The future’s erasing itself through the now.
We must find a way to slow it somehow.

Before we lose all our tomorrows.

That Night


I remember the harsh words
The fever pitch screaming
The need to flee and find a place
Of peace.

I drove away
Not knowing where to go
Just following the painted lines on the asphalt
Reflecting in the moonlight.

Or maybe
Reflected in the tears in my eyes.
I don’t really know.
Darkness plays tricks with your vision.

In a pull off by the river
Hidden from view in the black of night
Away from prying eyes
I found my peace.

But the peace was not in that place.
Not in the tears, the car,
The cover of night.
My peace was in you.

I drove fiercely back,
Following those same reflective lines,
The asphalt flying by like a jet stream.
Home to our door.

I remember the love that steered my heart home,
The frantic need to throw open the door
And run madly into your arms.
To say I was sorry, and that you were everything.

But the door was locked.
Your heart was locked.
And the key would never again
Be mine to find.



The gates of Hell are rising
To engulf the diseased Earth.
Moms and Dads are crying,
Babies dead right after birth.
Demons are attacking,
Taking everything they see.
The world around us blacking
As we plunge into the sea.

The life we know is ending
As it suddenly is clear
That evil is impending,
The Devil’s thousand years.
Dirt and stench surround us
As we see what might have been.
Satan, now has found us
The king of wicked men.

Our paths are laid before us,
To the sinners’ realm we go;
To the torture that is for us,
Reserved for human souls.
Eternity, defined here
Is where we’ll spend our days.
The lives we left behind us
Have gone their separate ways.

The fires are getting close now.
I can feel them burn my soul.
For my soul was black with evil,
My sins as black as coal.
The foolish do not heed me
Or mend their wicked ways.
The lambs of God march forward on
Into the fiery blaze.

Responding to Image 3

(Responding to image 3)

I lay under the midnight stars
And dream of a life I have never known.
I am not sleeping, nor awake
As the coyotes howl in the distance.
Their haunting cry echoes the pain in my heart.

Because I chose the path of loneliness.

They are summoning, perhaps,
Another lone heart to share in their sorrow.
But their union is not a ceremony of mourning.
It is a celebration of mutual and subtle joy.
They have found comfort in each other.

Yet I chose the path of loneliness.

As the two are remembering together
The shadows of their lives are forgotten forever.
The howling dies.

In the silence of the late summer night, another suffering can be heard.
The sound of a human heart breaking.

Because I chose the path of loneliness.

In reality, the sound is but a memory,
It’s shrill tone heard only by me.
Once I loved.

Still I lie beneath the frozen stars
And dream of a life that could have been.
A life of meaning, a life of hope,
A life of knowing who I am.

But I chose the path of loneliness.



Summer day.

The gray goes away.





Sweet birds are singing.

Church bells are ringing.

Singing symphonic songs of love.