Unveiled 4

Painting by Betty Bell Sanders

Though her eyes were closed
She could still see forever
Far beyond the doorway
Where she stood
Unveiled to the world
To the angels
In her dreams
Bare feet drawing grace
From the wood

The wicker
The wood
The breeze of the morn
The sunlight
Soft gainst her skin
To feel the embrace
Of the love
In the silence
Washing away
Where she’s been

In the hues of the morn
She could still see forever
In the absence of time
Transposing the words
Of a story once told
A most perfect rhyme


Circumstance of Time

Circumstance of Time 1

Circumstance of Time

Time has danced its way
Beyond my grasp of what is real
But those of age and consequence
Sadly… still can feel

By circumstance and just by chance
Yes… I easily bruise
But those who tell my story
Never walked inside my shoes

He’s doing well they all may say
That’s just how the story goes
But the story behind the old man’s eyes
The story that nobody knows

Time may dance with circumstance
Though my eyes have never been clearer
Thanks for pretending you know who I am
But you don’t know the man in the mirror


In Morning’s Yawn

In Morning's Yawn

In Morning’s Yawn

He could not see the light beyond the moment
He could not feel the braille beneath his touch
The light down in the tunnel growing dim like twilight’s close
And fever from the rain was far too much
He reached for silver strings only finding tattered thread
Braided in a desperate search for truth
Standing in the vortex of a devastating storm
Raging through the shadows of his youth

He could not find his way beyond the moonlight
He could not blend the palette yon the dawn
But the moonlight always shined upon the hunger of the wolves
While his palette left its hues in morning’s yawn


My deepest gratitude to all of those who have
honored themselves serving their country…
with special respect for those who have
left their hues “In Morning’s Yawn”…
Sadly… humans have not learned…
This is not the way to put an end to war.

Universal Soldier




Blood Wolf Moon 3

It was lost in the chaos
Though seldom was it seen in the light
It seems that’s where she preferred it to be
Kept safe in her dreams
…….in the night

She shared it once in the daylight
Then watched while they all walked away
That’s when she tucked it away in the dark
And changed all her colors to grey

She danced with her ghost in the shadows
From the light of the blood wolf moon
Snow neath the pines formed the stage for the mime
In the passion of frosted maroon

She was lost in the chaos
Though she’s found in the rhymes that I write
It seems that’s where she prefers to be
Kept safe in her dreams
…….in the night


Where Flowers Always Grow

where flowers always grow

Where Flowers Always Grow
             (A True Story)

I wandered in the backwoods
With the cougar and the crow
Where hobos shared their campfire tales
Where no one else would go

I traveled through the eastern woods
Hopping trains in early dawn
Smoking cigarettes in boxcars
Crossing lines that can’t be drawn

I hitched my way to the northern woods
Finding flowers in their hair
First taste of ‘knowing’ peace and love
While music filled the air

I flew into the northwest woods
On giant silver wings
Sailed into the deep blue sea
In search of silver strings

Drove white lines to the southern woods
In an aimless flight to nowhere
Still longing for what lingered
Deep beneath the seraph’s dare

I wandered through the backwoods
With the cougar and the crow
Where hobos shared their campfire
Where flowers always grow



Broken Stones

broken stones

I attempt to make them right from what went wrong
Often I pretend that they have turned into a song
I try to keep the verses from exposing all my bones
But that’s when all I get
………are broken stones

I’d place them in a bottle
But I know that they would drown
Or float out in the ocean… never to be found
Hide between forgotten lines for reasons never known
But that’s when all I get
………are broken stones

I’d love to write the rhyme that touched one’s heart
Or one that shared the love with simple literary art
Once I tried to change the world where rocks were never thrown
But that’s when all I got
……were broken stones

Poets often linger in the shadows neath the light
Perhaps where they feel freedom or perhaps where they find flight
Perhaps we shouldn’t scribe across the page our fractured bones
Though sometimes……. love is found
………………………midst broken stones


A Curious Birth

A Curious Birth

A Curious Birth

When Christmas Eve had fallen down
And snow fell neath the bridge
Whispered words of new born kings
In echoes yon the ridge

Faces turned the other way
To pilgrims void of proof
While doors were closed and candles dimmed
For vagabonds of truth

Perhaps this story’s told with hope
Perhaps it’s merely fable
But candles glowed and starlight gleamed
Around that tiny stable

Twas the night before a curious birth
With snow upon the fir
While kings made way to bring the child
Their incense, gold and myrrh

It matters not what faith you bear
Like songs of Mourning Doves
If light we find in stories told
Can breathe the breath of love

When Christmas Eve had fallen down
And dawn had warmed the fleece
Whispered words with love’s embrace
Brought hope for mortal peace

A most beautiful holiday season to you all…