What could have been

A weeping potential in torrential sweat
to make up for lost time
lost minds find each other in dark times to connect

When the lights flicker
and eventually go out
when the birds flutter and fly
and finally go south

Here I am, so honest in my skin
a lingering dark shadow
with marrow seeping out the life that could have been

Little Fish

Look here, my little fish
Why don’t you go?
Why do you stay here in this bowl
Not large enough to hold an inkling of your soul?

Go away, my little fish
and don’t look back
Flutter your little fins
Wiggle free through those little cracks

Why do you stay, little fish?
Don’t you wish to be gone?
Your home is no longer a place for you
But please don’t leave holding on

Swim free, little fish
There is an ocean to discover
A new life and lovers
Without need to swim under covers

You lived, little fish
You survived your hand and troubles
Your breaths of air so fresh
And the little hope you dispel in those bubbles

Why are you sad, little fish?
Do you still not wish to go?
Your home is where your heart is
Even in little pieces it will still glow

Goodbye, little fish
I know you had your choices
No matter what path you choose
I wish you happiness wherever your life is


Thin Air

Seated in dark corners invisible to light
Falling into the shape of furniture, furnished out of sight
A blend of wood, of leather, of bone
The flesh unknown to strangers in their own

Observe but never seeing
Existing for the sake of being
Spaces to breathe shall suffice
in the corners crossing over nothing and nice

The gem are the unseen
Willingly unheard in silent scenes
Holding their hat by defiant means
The wind blowing their particles away in violent streams

The steam of strangled thoughts
Drawn and untangled until forgot
No longer seeking what they sought
The invisible existing by the threads of their defiant cloth



A trip incurred to refresh the tastes of pasts so blurred
Spurred by longing, the sense of belonging never spurned
Yearning the present with a sprinkle of places in the distance
Stepping into my dreams with the nudge of history’s insistence

The valley below the mountains
The flowers and the fountains
A sequence of serene surroundings
Amidst the cold winds astounding

The shops and stores have changed some more
A polite delight never succumbing to the score
Changed without upheaval
A delicate arrangement of people
All in the middle of my little place unequalled


The Get Up

A recluse removed from his range of rest
thrown outside to win his ways through test
battered a little here, bruised a little there
paying dues is hardly fair in his days detached from zest

But rise he must
to shake of grime and dust
the red lines of rust
do little to do better to a mind that must

Standing tall waving fist and all
a list so long of life’s “to do” on call
brawling with breath taking existence in little steps
to make it all happen on the insistence of respect


The cat is in for a little suspense
maybe a little mouse
an unquestioned heart
living in his little house

Clawing at holes
climbing his tower
Hey there, Mr. Cat
on your little trip of power

Lay as you must
stretch when you may
give me your back
but you had better not walk away

Why do you treat me so?
Oh my dear cat, please don’t let me go
Don’t you know that Tom never won
and little old Jerry was the star of the show?

I guess I’ll give in
to your curious ways
poke and prod me with your paws
If I play dead, you’ll probably leave me in a couple of days

I waved goodbye to Mr. Cat
wiggling his tail and stepping so light
a cool customer that cat is
but I think I’ll be alright

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat
but it kept him occupied a little longer
Mr. Cat eventually left me
but I think I came out a little stronger


Give up
Lay down

Into little pieces
saddened and cracked
broken without repair
uncomfortable and flat on your back

Try to rise but you cannot move
Try to dance but you cannot groove
Fall into step, join the crowd
Call in sick
But hold onto all that is proud

Accomplishments and achievements
the refreshing of bereavements
pain and hardship
in the face of life’s disagreements

Inconvenient methods
for flawed results
should you succumb now
or wait for more insults

Adults overwhelmed
roughed up for good measure
but there within lies our pearl
for the high standards of worldly treasure


The snow covers the streets. By mounds and heaps, in leaps and bounds, Marley jumps around astounded by the white fluff covering these grounds.

Around the forest, upon the trees, weighing down the branches and sticking to leaves

A festival of ice, an irresistible prize, nature at its best putting to test the limits invisible to eyes

The flakes float and fall, stick to sidewalks and add a fresh coat to roads and walls

When the rain will come, sure enough, and wash away the fluff, the ice hangs tough for icy nights in the cold rough rain for wintry sights

I against Her

One of the first poems I ever wrote.

Her lips frosted from the chill only bear warmth in the form of words and tender kisses
As the snow tumbles from the skies, the flakes land on her lips, melting to soften the trajectory of her words
Forming around my ears, entering my body a syllable at a time, a mile a minute

Intricate though she is, simply I shall only love her
The strands on her cheek provide her pureness little cover
White as the night, clear as the Moon on a sunny day
Listening in as the drum beats, pounding harder with each approaching breath

Sail we shall into the depths of the day
There are words and there are planets but to her I am joint today