On Missing Robin Williams

I want to write
About you
Your laughter, maniacal antics, wit
Witticism, whimsy
The way you made me think deep
Through the belly rolling, stomach cramping “please stop”
But not really…so much fun laughter…sent
To ponder the silliness of my existence
The absurdity of my serious self
Your fantastical smile and that particular sadness
In your eyes just beyond reach, casting a spell of

I want to write about
The innumerable truths you spoke
Written in lines, given to you…owned by you
Known through you
“Words and ideas can change the world”
My world…
Why not your world?
Damn it.

I want to write about you
Can’t…it hurts too much
It hurts too much.



My finger tips
Hold the thread of you
Dangling precariously

We had passion…

You linger at my touch
Hovering above the abyss

We had the future…

It’s simple, a little flit, easy
Releasing the rest of you
To fall…fall

The last inches to go
Infinitely gone

Generation Motivation

If you are looking at
Me and My Generation
Shaking your head
Grumbling WTF?!
Walk away and do something
I'm good with that

Being Skinned #MondayBlogs #Emotion

Being Skinned

The layers peel
With a severe ease
Sub-dermal lament resides


Cracking drafts of promises
Too familiar, too simple
Latent memory unveiled

Peeling, peeling

Like dead skin from a sunburned thigh.

Poetic Death

Poetic Death


If I ever were to scribe

Verse and rhyme

Upon a broken line

Calling up metaphor

And trite analogy

To describe to thee

My Poetry

Shoot me


Screen Time Flickers #Poetry

Screen Time Flickers

There is contemplation to be done
That will be left undone, again
Screens scream for my adoration
Demanding pixel friends await my liking
And a cute cat video and a political meme
Mimic my ideas into me
Providing for me
My thoughts and views
In screen time
And time again
Lapses through box and frame
Search to query
Filling the blanks of inquiry
Finding me glancing between profiles and bios
Building walls of windows
Leaving no space
For me to wander quietly
Among my heart…beat
And breath…taken

A Revealing Tear #Poem

Before she quickly brushed it aside
her single tear drop traced a line- 
like a silver scalpel slicing so quickly 
through flesh 
that bright bone is revealed before blood appears
 - such was this tear
a momentary revealing that she cared too much
that her need was too great
that her hope for recognition, salvation actually, would not come
Not tonight
She had said no…


Pacing the Cage

This one isn't mine. It's powerful and worth sharing. It speaks to those wonderful moments in our living when our passion, our creative muse demands more from us than routine, discipline and status-quo will provide us...


Pacing the Cage

Sunset is an angel weeping
Holding out a bloody sword
No matter how I squint I cannot
Make out what it's pointing toward
Sometimes you feel like you live too long 
Days drip slowly on the page
You catch yourself
Pacing the cage

I've proven who I am so many times
The magnetic strip's worn thin
And each time I was someone else
And everyone was taken in
Powers chatter in high places
Stir up eddies in the dust of rage
Set me to pacing the cage

I never knew what you all wanted
So I gave you everything
All that I could pillage
All the spells that I could sing
It's as if the thing were written 
In the constitution of the age
Sooner or later you'll wind up
Pacing the cage

Sometimes the best map will not guide you 
You can't see what's round the bend
Sometimes the road leads through dark places 
Sometimes the darkness is your friend
Today these eyes scan bleached-out land 
For the coming of the outbound stage
Pacing the cage 
Pacing the cage

-Bruce Cockburn


Claudia's Gift

Claudia’s Gift

Gilded statutes point the way with their gaze
Through Spanish moss arbors
Draped on ancient oaks
Who always listen and keep in their boughs memories
Fried chicken picnics and tossing legs bones to alligators for fun
And excitement
The sound of the Super 8 tick, tick, tick
Reeling black and white recollections 
Prancing bee hive red heads and Christmas present
Antics unwrapped
Of the great family explosion
Marked by tombs stones one, two, three
Then and now
Yet these hollowed bridleways sustained you
Strolls on a summer day beneath gargantuan granite gods
And musing fountains 
Telling tales of larger worlds and beliefs
To shield you
Gardens of stone poetry
Meeting you with promises
Of beautiful roses and tender assurances
Pledges of gods and God’s
Brush as real then as the careful breezes 
And terrible tears 
Diminishing into the sand under
Tough, unyielding Bermuda grass
Growing then
And now
You remain kept
In the reminiscences of that place, that restful, private sanctuary
Even the faintest music of spilling fountains
And fading etchings
And half remembered rhymes
Uphold you now
And me
For these are your favors 
The fuel of muse and wonder
Poets and painters
Nurses and writers
Programmers and preachers
To cast their lot
In the brook green stream


The Voice of The Irises, #Mondayblogs #poetry

The Voice of The Irises

This morning
Damp with it all
The purple tongues
Of the Irises
Threaten to speak of painful memories

She always loved the spring
That the Irises announced 
Arriving on palates 
Of green and violet
Promises of tender possibilities

But, the spring never really changed
Anything of substance and
Colors run in summer rains
Pooling into charcoal swirls

And the Irises died
With a vain promise
Whispered into tomorrow’s

An Idol Life #Poety #MondayBlogs

Idol Life

When you've read the holy scriptures of countless wise fanatics
When you've pondered the tallied tales of positive thinkers
When you've sailed the seas of helpful suggestions and poignant promises
When you've chosen choices cast in caring coy iterations
When you've jumped up and down embracing the enthusiasm of enthusiasts
When you've done years upon years of carefully crafted…eating…praying...loving
When you've walked down endless miles of isles to alluring altars
When you've run, climbed and stood in search of joy
When you have nothing more to show for it than a collection of geometric idols and savvy souvenirs 
Cast in cried out salt and stripped marrow…
Are you done?


Skinned knees and egos
Grow back slowly
Bridges between
Today's Hurt and tomorrow's

From Dawn to Dusk, A #Poem

From Dawn to Dusk


Before dawn

The moon looms

Bright, bold

Shining through the film

Of clouds and blinds

Gliding across her

Like lace sliding off her


Once, long ago…

On Writing #Poetry

Writing Poetry

Sometimes, I have an idea
A particular phrase that gets my gut 
A bothersome feeling that just won't be captured in prose
Then I write it down in short
               Broken lines    and
      Phrases and 
See what comes out.
Then it stares back at me
Talks to me
Calls my name or yours
As I look at its particular shape
Hear its weedy voice
I might tweak a word or two to get it to look
Or feel or sound a bit better
As it speaks about you or me
Our living, believing, breathing, selves
I name it Poem
                – Because I have to --
Then I hit post and hope it has value to someone else.



(Because of a conversation between poets. Thank you. You know who you are.)

Muse Use #Poem

Muse Use

Did Jung refer to you
Flit and a wisp through
My chest 
Stealing my breath?

Are not you the artist’s
Singing and dancing by
My passions
Making off with my propriety?

Did I say, Thank you?

Spring Break for #MondayBlogs

You know those days
When winter is giving way to spring

When the day begins on crisp promises
Finding us
In layers of comfortable clothes
And gentle expectations

When both must to be stripped off
Cast aside along the path
To a beautiful day?

Today is that day...

Too Full of You #MondayBlogs

Too Full

The quill hovers gorged
Dripping onyx truths
Upon pristine parchment
Unable to spill
Small enough droplets
To inscribe
The delicacy of


sea mists and me

It's cloudy. A breeze stirs the air. It's a lousy day for many things: sun bathing, boating, strolling along the shore. Yet, I find myself blissful.

The sea breathes salt and a heaviness that all but hugs you and then dares to dance into your lungs, pushing itself in, demanding you to breathe... deeper, expanding your chest and your mind. No limits. No casings. No hurry.

Inhale. Exhale. Taste. Feel.

Begin Again #Poem

When the frigid stare
Of Failure smirks at you
When the world has wandered off
The devastating silence
Roars around you
“You will not!”
When nothing but tatters and strewn plans remain
What is there to do but
Build yourself a fire
From the rubble of
What you use to be
To warm you
And begin dreaming
Schemes for the ‘morrow?