A Lump of Clay

A formable lump of clay,

sprung from the earth

more or less formed than many

of less or much more worth

the elements within are one,

though emerged from different lands,

and a certain profundity exists in each

debilitating grain of sand

that keeps the clay from rising perfect

within the creator’s hands.

And the storms hover and melt away

superficial textures fine,

but the artist certainly carves them again

with the same love in his eye,

and the lump of clay grows even finer

with the calamities of time.




Another darkness

with the new day,

sunshine send me forth

from this hollow cave,

my mind to my heart

has become a slave,

and all I can do

is hopefully pray

and trust time will take

these troubles away.

And I will awake each new day

and remember the color in the grey

’tis a bleak tint, this shroud, which

imparts no warmth as it surrounds

the soul at peace, the mind at ease,

yet is only vapor, like a cloud.

I could wisp it away if the frequency

of my thoughts were not vigorously

reverberating the strings of my heart,

so I know not the tune of elemental harmony

that breaks these fetters and sets me free.




Always falling, drifting away,

one can grow stronger,

in the elements harsh sway,

or struggle helplessly ,

day after day.

The suns warmth too hot,

the autumn rain too cold,

The youth have less wisdom

than the fools of old.

Take the sunshine in,

let cool water fill the thirst,

There are many different ways to grow

than through the darkness first.



Wolf Eyes

Your eyes gleam like fire,

like the suns corona as

it falls behind clouds,

over some vast ocean,

always changing.

Mine are hazel too,

a glow of yellow under yours,

not as gold as the sunshine,

yellow like the full moon

low in the blue October sky

before day falls into night.

These celestial orbs move life on earth

brightening the desolate gloom,

the love within us shines from me,

like the light shines from the moon.


Blind Love

Is it love that is all whim and dream,

Merely lost, like a mariner at sea,

Whose stars too long obscured by clouds,

Have become a tragic yet hopeful shroud

As he drifts aimlessly?

Love that is solid like a stone,

Formed never by the will alone, and

transparent love goes deepest yet,

while opacity and blindness harbor regret;

if love is real, may it be known.

Friendship (A Poem)

A friend is him who has not greed,

when he faces his friend’s own needs.

There is no  word, no act of vanity,

only true intent and amity.


He is there when the night is cold,

and the journey home is far,

he is there whenever he can be,

for necessity or his desire.


Friendship falters not with space and time,

though with circumstances in between,

Good friends stand by each other proud

as each fulfills his dreams.



Fate (A Poem)

Is the corruption inherent in the trade?

Does the power of perception falter

when focused on the one light ray?

Does idealized beauty abate

as attention is drawn to unrealized grace?

And why tarry now,

when the mind falls to such fates?

To know certain things are ineffable,

then the whole world awaits!

The Day’s Lament ( A Poem)

The memories linger,

like a year was a day,

and love of previous years

lingers just the same.

Nothing ever changed

when he went away

except the knowing mind

that the heart’s lost to the sway.

If only the dreams were nearby me,

like he had always been,

I would follow less distant ideas,

and I would let love lead the way.

Though the truest of ideals

when love was his and mine,

is now a shadow in the past,

only true in its own time.


The Window (a poem)

tis a window beyond the senses

veiled most of our lives

the same mystery in the world without

is the one that shines behind our eyes


Lift the curtain only brief

if you are strong enough to know

and all and each in its place

will have a brighter glow


some return to find the reason

tis not for some to know

so must turn back again

others must be shown


so, leave curiosity behind

in the shelter safe and warm

give thanks for that transparent grace

’til you must grasp the door


Hesitation ( A Poem)

Alas, if found in love am I,

but love my mind doth defy,

I will search its depths most thoroughly

to find the reason why.

For love stands still to hearts who wait,

’tis joy in sorrow, hope and pain

hesitate only briefly in refrain,

lest the song not leave these chords again.