A-Verse

for sure, I’ll mix my metaphors
and scramble similes
sometimes you’ll find, I force my rhymes
it matters not to me
form and function often clash
and verses wander free
yet I beseech thee be not rash
to judge my poor poetry

Unfinished Poems (unfinished)

unfinished poems writ on leaves
he then dropped in a stream
convinced they would return complete
to him within his dreams.

WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS

The years left behind
have me strung out
in bits and pieces
desperate for a hit
of being twenty-five
or thirteen once more,

unable to score some yesterdays
I’ll cold turkey into tomorrows.

The Darker Songs

in winter Saturn’s songs are bleak
ballads of death’s dominion
yet this darkness to me speaks
more than spring’s adoration
of lightly formed and simple rhymes
which though sweet and deft
sing but to me ’bout long lost times
of which poesie is now bereft

Broken Marble

these perfect bodies
heed not disfigured faces
for gods need no form

The Jar

he caught the sun
in a small glass jar
he kept for such occasions
behind the bleach
and tea towels
in the cupboard
under the kitchen sink

and

if ever the dwindling seasons
disappointed him
or caused his smile
to fade away
he’d screw off its lid
and release the glow
then to be reminded
of younger, longer days.

Time

time slips away
forgotten and ignored
not in chimes
or waking bells
but in seasons lost
and flowers felled
by the turning
of no clocks
save those we mould
from memory

Essence

what essence lives in lieu of art
that beyond new horizons chart
is spilled as ink from this poor heart
no further craft dare it impart

Absolution

In your words
I find benediction
you speak to me
of absolution
not for sins
nor condemnation
but a simple sense
of affirmation

Towards The Windmill

he watched her skip
towards the windmill
and her dancing hair
told him
its sails were chained
and simply for display