The Gateway

The gateway beckoned

the traveler knew its story well,

with promises of adventure,

the Sun’s rays worked to close the sale


On the other side,

a deep warmth dwelt,

offering whispers and caresses

of forgotten hurts, no longer felt


The traveler was wise though,

and did not heed

for the Siren’s lusty call

was full of lies and misdeeds


“I have been that way”

responded the soujorner

and turned back to

where the path was known and clear



you think you know me

yet, my job is to become

someone you don’t know

Busy Body’s Inventory

Welcome, what would you like to know?

I will help as much as I can, I don’t get around much,

but I see things and pay attention, you see,

so, ask away, or better yet, let’s just start

on the ground and see how it goes.


1A is a single male (whispers; I think he’s bi)

will bench press all night when he is stressed,

had a dog, but lost custody to his “friend

smiles when he passes, don’t talk though

and never, ever looks you in the eye


2A…ehehm…engaged is what she says,

likes her country LOUD especially at 2am

no pets, no visitors, no family I know of

will talk for a while if greeted first,

but would be alone and that’s how she stays


1B are married (if you believe in that sort of thing)

Blue eyes has a kid that comes around

Brown eyes disappears a lot, business you know.

They argue a lot about little things, but seem

to be nice, if you know what I mean.


2B has way too many friends. Most you won’t even see twice.

Such a beautiful girl too, it’s such a shame.

She should be more careful, ‘stead of playing THAT game.

She listens real good, has a nice smile,

always smells like she bathes in spices.


1C is the one you want to know all about, they still haven’t cleaned it.

So sad what happened to the couple that lived there,

I can’t tell ya, you would’ve had to be here

But the cops did their job up right, that charge will stick

All the evidence, not even Perry Mason could beat it.


2C, well, that’s me! Just this old worn out Grandma.

Nothing but time on my hands and no where to go.

I’m very accepting, not a prejudiced bone, but bless their hearts,

the people moving in these days, I don’t know where to start.

I find it is best if I keep to myself and just don’t get involved.



The shaking fingers

thread a hook through wiggling worms

casting out for me.

Why I teach…

Not every “Good Morning” is met with a smile.

To be honest, most are met with a stare,

but the ones that break across sleepy teenage faces

are more valuable than,

a trunk of pirate booty found under the “X” on a map to Treasure Island;

the ‘High Five’ for the winning goal in the championship game;

one’s gentle first kiss from a long held crush under soft moonlight;

or even, the promotion and raise after years of hard work,

because it shows they know I care.

Should have been born a fish

I hate gravity…


It causes billowing spots, all over,

of blue and purple

that turn unnatural shades of

green and orange.

I was born on land to live

a tortured life.

The corners of tables grab me and

the smallest of pebbles can trip

as man-made devices assist my fragile, weak body

in the simplest of things.


But in the water…


There is no gravity.

Fluid motion fills my limbs and, for once,

I am strong.

One kick sends energy to wings

suddenly sprouted

and nothing reaches to grab or stop my

forward inertia.

No crutches or chairs with wheels.

No thick pieces of glass sitting across my face.

At home, my limbs obey my commands,

as colors dance off of each other

with sparkling exuberance.


I am me under the water…

first post

“YAWN” tendons popping

DAMN! Alarm didn’t go off

NEED coffee to start

Am I late, am I?

Crumpled sheets lie in confusion,

as dejected cat mews

but wait, it’s too early!

Bully Sun finds every crevice,

pushes, prods, “GET UP!”

Stumbling to the table,

mind hazy, depressing thought

“So much for lying in.”



I am a little nervous, but very excited to be part of this. Writing poetry is something I have done to explain the feelings of Isolation that arrive from living with Asperger’s. For many years, I didn’t know why, I just knew I didn’t understand. Poetry helped me to put that into emotions and the emotions into words. Being able to see words as images can make my poems very dense, so I hope that I can create verse that will, if not move people, at least give them an “ah hah” moment.

1 5 6 7