Mystical Mandala

White blends with black

Lines like flags atop the sea

Eyes peek in a stare

The brush dances, twists and curves

A seamless burst of beauty


The Escape

There is an escape through the leaves

A calm place that will greatly appease

It is just past the rushes

Where the sun sets and blushes

While watchful willows put you at ease

What is love to those who grieve?

What is love to those who grieve?

Is it a reminder that there is a pause

when inevitably our loved ones leave

and on our heart loss gleefully gnaws?


What is love to those who grieve?

Is it a shattered moment

where knees bend, broken

or a mixture of memories we weave

replaying past lessons spoken?


What is love to those who grieve?

It is a quilt of solace

that forgives the fear of the naive

until that same voice tenderly calls us.



That Feeling


Beet coloured cheeks

Cinnamon sands clothe us

I touch your elbow as you gaze



Driving Alone

Here I go driving past the crooked creek

We’d throw stones in its pockets and try to pick them up again,

only a wish away from desperation

It’s today that I’m reminded of you

Don’t know where I’m going

and even though it’s not been long

I seem to have gone far

The hills play hide and seek with me,

falling and appearing again,

teasing my rusted, vintage car

I guess I should turn back soon

I said those words before,

when you were in the passenger seat,

lost and speechless

but I knew the muted words you spoke

The days are weathered now,

jaded and tattered

so I drive

I’m going to the nowhere

where we might have ended up

Sunflowers in a Field

Yoke yellow spheres

hold a buttery glow

Sun silhouettes stand tall

Shy satin stalks break from the breeze

Imprinted mud stays motionless,

dented and dry

Knotted wood sits still, sturdy

as an archive now

Submersed in memory

I sit and swing

as my audience of sunflowers curtsy and bow


Two Steps Beneath

A mosaic of moors in tranquil twists

Blankets of butterflies brushing moss filled rocks

Streams temptingly trickle past pastel painted flowers

Stars falling in droplets of lush light

Nature serenading a serenity

as it composes a melody of bliss

A Mystery at Dusk-an Acrostic Poem

Guess who is at fault

Under a microscope clues are examined

In the sunken ground rests the ache of sadness

Let the authorities reveal the truth

To capture the shameful one as others halt in a hurry to heal

You’re sure that soon it will be revealed

A Sonnet for Two Souls

Oh the soft sounds of movement in the heart!

They watch the ink stain a story of love

A word written, an eternal I do

Their tale, a turning page, a crafted kiss

Oh the years, droplets of blessings and tears!

Hands stay entwined in the waves at their shores

The beats of their bond splash rhythms of trust

Oh how their love keeps a case on their hearts!

And brings life to the silence in the sounds!

A speck of grey interrupts the newness

As time slinks, slithers and begins to steal

Lined hands now grasp in a way never known

The creases of an oath now etched in stone

A book, its chapters seem settled in love




A Portrait Beyond the Blue(A Take on Twenty Little Poetry Projects)

She’s got a heart of gold

She also thinks pieces of rainbows fall from the sky on sunny days

Her touch is a cotton sheet, her sight a floating swan, she hears as a smile sharing joy, tastes as one hungering for truth and smells as a flower

She sees the colour blue and the shape of her lifelong love when music grazes her ears

Her poise is as Athena in ancient Greece

Her heart is streaked not golden

The skies are grey, where has this darkness come from?

How cheeky she can be!

She says each time she frowns a drop of rain falls from above

And when it does, these words are her refrain, ‘Ca va bien!’

A whispering mouth speaks of bravery

She stares at the vertical horizon

As her feet are lifted and she soars as a bird

Shea, her confidante, she knew her gifts were beyond the given

There will be a time others will see, she will share her sense of knowing

Like a flattened cloud no longer floating

And they’ll declare, ‘I love how strawberries float in the sky!’

Quietly she will say,’Je suis enfin a ma place!’

She makes the mountains hum

And the blue appears to open only for her