Explore all poems

I love cake and some chat
Watching the sun set like art
Singing love songs off key
Spending time with little money
Planning so much with friends –
To see the world from all ends;
These little things you see
Are all you...

I am but a caterpillar
surrounded by butterflies
such beautiful creatures
I have watched many like me change
change with such grace into such beauty
I often wonder why
why I am yet to find such grace
why am I yet to...

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Only blood could wash away sin,
And so we put on altars, the blood of beasts.
Only blood could wash away sin,
And yet this blood was never fit.
Only blood could wash away sin,
And so He gave us His only kin.
Only His blood...

When the storm gathers
And the sun is hidden from view
With cold piercing winds –
And dark omnibus shadows:
Mothers rush to take the babes in
The chickens, the goat and all
Sensible creatures take cover
As the clouds...

He walks the path, feet light, yet sure,
Balancing life on rails obscure.
The sun hums soft in golden tones,
A fleeting warmth he calls his own.

Illusions dance, they pull, they sway,
Yet he won’t let them lead...

'I've a pain in my head'
Said the suffering Beckford;
To her Doctor so dread.
'Oh! what shall I take for't?'

Said this Doctor so dread
Whose name it was Newnham.
'For this pain in your head
Ah! What can you do...

Ecstatic bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of the sky
with metallic clinkings—
beating color up into it
at a far edge,—beating it, beating it
with rising, triumphant ardor,—
stirring it into warmth,
quickening in it a spreading...
        

There are strangers out there
Strangers who know –
The rhythms of our hearts.
Strangers who –
We shared more than just time.
And for those we are with now.
We keep them occupied
With tales of those strangers
Who...

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children...

A funny old bird is a pelican.
His beak can hold more than his belican.
Food for a week
He can hold in his beak,
But I don't know how the helican.

Friday nights –
The mad, bad streets,
Pacing, thinking, wishing, seeing
Cold nights, tipsy, hot blood –
Deep dives and long drives,
Strange, loud, high neighbors.
It ends on a Saturday morning
Sleepy, Saturday...