In the Breath of Wolves


In the Breath of Wolves

It’s been a fortnight or two
Since the wolves howled
Near the edge of the prairie…
Hungry beneath the moonlight…
Eyes that glow through the thickened brush
Searching for those of imprudence

Paws… in their silence
Pressing quietly the forest floor…
Their mouths tasting the night air
As if the mist itself were filled
With the taste of ambrosia
Warm… against their tongues…

Twas midnight of the half moon
Shadows dancing neath the black oak…
Flutterring sounds from the wings of the wise
Evading the thirst of the hounds…
Sagacity roused in patience of time
Searching for the scent of innocence

It’s been a fortnight or two
Since the wolves howled
Near the edge of the wildflowers…
Hungry beneath the waxing moon…
Yet warm moist breath lingers in winter’s night
While the prairie bides in its silence

A breeze is stirring through the valley…
Willows crackling in the cold night air…
The distant sound of the nighthawk
Echoing across the meadow
As I stand in wonder on the edge of tomorrow…
Listening to the hush…
                                              before the howl…


Thank you for dropping by and reading “In the Breath of Wolves”.  Now I would like to ask you to take the time to read it once again with the thought… that just perhaps… this poem is not about furry, four legged animals……….

May your day be filled with beautiful moments…  while “listening to the hush…”


Copyright © 2017

The Copper Pail


The Copper Pail

I’ve been all through the lines I’ve crossed
Poems half-finished where rhymes were lost
Through notebooks scribed with crimsoned pen
And parchment mired with could have beens

Shards of me on every page
Dancing truths cross paper stage
Of love…
Of lust…
Of mortal sin…
A passioned touch of light within

The crumpled page of love and life
While hues still cling to palette’s knife
I’ve singed the edge of wrong and right
And graced the tinge tween black and white

Never sip from poet’s grail
Where secrets hide neath shadowed braille
The chalice spills its crimson wine
And bleeds in truths between the lines

Perhaps just hiding words unspoken…
The tattered soul the heart that’s broken…
Perhaps unsaid they tell the tale
The crumpled page… in copper pails

Though crinkled pages out of time
May somehow bring to light the rhyme
To dwell in other worldly lives
Upon the wings…
                                  Of dragonflies


Copyright © 2017

A Parchment Bare


I’m wanting for nothing but parchment bare
Awaiting the touch of the rhyme
The pallet in shades of colors so rare
The hour glass pauses in time

What is there left in life tween the seasons
Where everything seems black and white
Looking beyond conventional reason
Where shadows can dance in the night

While dawn paints her portrait of night into day
With Terra adorned by the muse
Poetry lingers in depths of the mind
From wisdom on soles of my shoes



Copyright © 2017

Rose on Fire


New Year brings the thoughts to mind
Of all that’s passed and left behind
Pathways crossed still intertwined
In flaming roses on the vine

New Year brings what hope desires
While music plays from mystic choirs
Sometimes dreamers walk the wire
And leave behind the rose on fire

New Year brings what lovers lose
Inside the rhymes from which we choose
Yet eyes will warm with tendered hues
When flaming roses grace the muse

A most beautiful 2017 to all of you… Thank you for dropping by and brightening my first day of the new year…


Copyright © January 2017

Until December


Until December

The bitter winter chill has arrived…
A north wind blowing in
From some remote arctic location
That seldom wanders my mind…
………………..Until December

Cold air seeping through the cracks
In the walls of this old house…
Floors resembling the feel of an icy pond
Against my bare feet…
As the snow begins to fall
Atop the branches of the pine
My thoughts of winters past…
Of time before my aging eyes
Had turned from blue to gray…
Where a child could catch a snowflake
In the palm of his tiny hand
Turn his face toward the sky
And smile with innocence…

My bones absorb the cold
Far more than just the year before
Even with extra tallow
Having taken residence beneath my skin…
My feet still cold inside my shoes
No crackling fire to warm them…
Yet I recall the child who sat upon the hearth
Enchanted with the thought of snow
To fall upon the willow
Long before the feet of crows
Had graced my mellowed eyes…

This old kitchen table
Where I often scrawl the thoughts
Of a man more antediluvian
Than that of my own recollection…
Can speak of the laughter…
The sadness…
The tears…
The stories told by those much older…
Much wiser than I…
Molded into the marrow of its soul…
It wears the wine and whiskey spilled
Immersed into its grain
Like purple hearts against the soldiers breast…
It speaks of Christmas dinners past…
Of birthdays come and gone…
Of hands held both above
And neath the wood…
Chairs that creak and speak of those
Who rested in their mold
Yet never speak the secrets told
On snowy winter nights…

The sleet against the window pane
Like the sound of a thousand crows
Pecking at the nuts beneath the pine…
The wind is howling through the cracks
Of the crippled wooden door
Reminding me of those who’ve danced
Upon this icy floor…
The sound of old piano strings
Ringing in the night
The rhymes so often drowned
Within the laughter…
Long painted nails
Tapping time against the keys
With voices blending well
Through breath of beer…
Thoughts that sometime slip my mind
Like quivering neath the sheets…
Forgotten amidst the warmth of dreams…
……………………………Until December


Copyright © 2016

I Opened Up the Sun


I Opened Up the Sun

I opened up the sun to find
What warms all living things
But found what humans used to cause the slaughter
I dug a hole into the earth
To find its inner beauty
But found the crude that always taints the water

I climbed upon a billowed cloud
To touch the deep blue sky
But found polluted air from acts of greed
I sprinkled moon dust on the earth
To calm the violent rage
But found a peaceful heart can’t stop the bleed

I wandered through the universe
To find the perfect cure
But found that time stands still across the ridge
I swam across the River Styx
To touch its magic lure
But found that love can’t always build a bridge

I opened up the book of life
And searched its rhymes for peace
But found the parchment scribed with shadowed runes
I spread my wings of silver strings
To dwell in lunar light
But found there was no muse upon the moon

I opened up the sun to find
What warms all living things
But found that sunshine melts the morning dew
I looked into the shining light
For life, for peace, for love
Then realized…
                         I found them all in you


Copyright © 2016

The Darkest of the Moons


The Darkest of the Moons

She wandered in the shadows
Of the darkest of the moons
With eyes no artist’s pallet could portray
Her vision of tomorrow
Etched on clouds of ancient runes
From wisdom found in secret passageways

She would not light the candle
For the shadows hide the muse
Where words beyond her beauty taste the rhyme
Her vision of the night to come
With pathways yet to choose
Can pause the sand cross pendulums of time

She could not breathe in light of day
Her breath dwelled in the veil
Where conjured brew lies hidden neath the vines
Her vision of what midnight brings
Of love in moonlight’s braille
Will pen her shadowed passion tween the lines

She lingered in the shadows
Of the darkest of the moons
Like portraits borne of Michelangelo
Her vision through the crystal ball
Of wings from scarred cocoons
Has found what’s beautiful beneath the snow


Copyright © 2016