Not my genre   I find it hard to describe art, that I can’t get into. No offense to the painter, it’s all good and in the pupils to remember.

Rushing water Blasting over the top White foam edges As it crashes below   Beauty and splendor Rushes past the rock wall Forcing it to be smooth From the sheer strength   The noise so loud Can be heard downstream Drowning out the sounds Of…

I love pajamas Soft rainbows of light fabric No belts or tight crotches No bones or pockets of keys Liquid lounging Without a bra A cat fast asleep by my side The gentle breathing of rest the perfect blend of gentle caress and restful relaxation…

Cunning fox, lithe red form and brave, black bear lead the girl over sidewalk through concrete jungle decorated with a spray can among leftover flora. Or maybe, she leads them.

Here in this pre-dawn morning these words I offer upon the altar. This fane built of sweat and tears as the hours pass in souls searching – searching for the perfect words in the perfect order. This path in the wilderness narrows, as weary heart…

Be brave my little Warrior Princess Conquering a new kingdom with the same big heart of yours With your usual charm, resoluteness and steadfastness Just be brave my little Warrior Princess. The strangeness of your new kingdom  will add magic to your conquests Make it…

A flower for enlightenment Overcoming murky life on its abode Solace of new light Life unearths Death imminent a reality Rebirth blossoming Nature cycle empowering Life’s universe understanding Forces of light and love forever singing 9:50 PM PST 05/08/2016 Doodle and poetry by Roy Mark…

I Haunt Myself Place a pillow over night’s closed door, recumbent light peering into silent dark. Lulled to sleep by a confusion so desolate. What is truly haunting, is possibility. Illuminate concern, at the stained glow of caramelized morning. Wonder if the tongue-parch and hunger…

Memories are nasty things Kicking up dust Settling into corners Sometimes, yesterday Weighs so heavy I cannot get out of bed My therapist says I live In the past, forget today He lacks credibility, though right It’s his talk of religion I mistrust, foul concept…

There once was a lady that sewed. Whose clothes were quite a la mode. Although quite hip she never mastered a zip. And all her buttons and fastenings showed.