I said it all long ago
once in a poem
Nothing to restate,
no words to explain
The waters have traveled,
my ship has long sailed
Your curious intention
brings only refrain
All thoughts into memory
whose feelings have gone
The property of others
my words now belong
Wishing and hoping
the spirit disowns
All wisdom diverted
—to skip that last stone
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Storming The Walls
Within this structure,
my words remain
Each line a fortress,
as thoughts refrain
The ramparts solid,
its moat retracts
All quivers loaded,
as doubt attacks
The enemy constant,
assault on fire
What darkness births,
one phrase retires
The battle spoken
upon the wind
My legend written
—still safe within
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Bad Pennies...
Writing is a messy feast
where crumbs fall to the floor
to congregate and aggregate
to hide and form and spore
Left alone and thrown away
these remnants take new life
invading what you fear the most
on dark and stormy nights
They creep inside your cleanest lines
to weaken and distract
what memory long has cast aside
now rising from the cracks
And latching on while holding tight
they make you speak their name
those orphaned crumbs your table cleared
—in sweeping lost disdain
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)