Just Another Thought

Why must I rise so early from bed?
Why don’t the thoughts leave my head?
Why can’t my answers pass the test?
Why do my dreams never rest?
Why does every day need a new start?
Why won’t this passion leave my heart?
No, I don’t want to write anymore!
Unless that’s what all this feeling’s for?




Century’s lost beneath a frigid sea.
A mystery shrouded from you and me.
One hundred years till the darkest of night.
A body shall be risen once gone from sight.
Subjects none, she’s a queen alone.
An island rests till her desire’s grown.
She’ll rise from the mist in fur, feather and scale.
Cloaked of face, she’s lovely beyond the pale.
Her quest is simple; to attain her reflection,
caught from a soul’s image of loves perfection.
Her call is silent, her essence shines through.
Once chosen, there’s none you can do.
Her attraction’s permanent, like flies on sweets.
And entice she does with her anticipated treats.
From a dream plucked, it’s her prey of late.
In a line they’ll stand with surety of fate.
Then only she will choose.
Who’ll be the winner this time to lose.
The others left bereft of heart.
Free for now to long another start.
The queen now quenched returns to her bed.
Her emptiness filled, rube’s again shed.
And the rest of us wonder of the tales that be.
Or am I to flounder in a flash of the sea?


*In Brigadoon all roads lead to the future.*

Morning Triku #176 ~ The Bright Side of Gray


Too Read

Daily poetry
The soothing of a poets heart
But for lover’s not

That’s Not Funny

Is laughing at our failings
And with good reason

Failing to See a Point

No longer obsessed
By success or of failure
I’m used to failure


Clarity in the Looking Glass

No Hocus Pocus,
time’s to focus.
I’ve faced much dread,
dreams again shed.
And I’ll rise from the trash,
of once certainties ash.
There poetic ember burns.
Passion is as passion yearns.
A phoenix again will rise,
glowing to dry teary yes.
Where risen to a painted sky.
The muse is I.


Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

Life’s multiple choice
Our answers lessen with time
Questions grow harder


Fears prevail feared
Tomorrow’s today’s earned
All will rise, some learned

Chances Are

Life is bad when sad
Or grand when on clouds we stand
And glad for the hand


Art for Sight

Second guesses are twice wrong.
If you don’t like the music don’t write the song.
When a heart has a question the answer’s foregone.
A canvas stretched can’t mimic the dawn.
Too much thought can be a curse.
A little more can be a verse.
Half the time we’re half a sleep.
We feel safe in the dreams we peep.
100% per try comes once.
50/50 you’re a dunce.
Start from scratch, shoot for the moon.
You may miss but you’ll know soon.
Primal intuition on cave walls bear.
The futures instinct paints ones fear.


Passionate Passage

Just a little exercise to see what I do,
I’m going the bathroom to write about poo.
I’ve fluffy white paper that floats from the wall.
And a sink nearby, in case I fall.
In a window with shutters I control the scene.
But the stench still oozes in-between.
There’s a mirror that magically hangs above.
It’s never quite straight, much like love.
The image’s the same no matter the tilt.
It tells no lies or feels no guilt.
I’ll wipe the smudges, the exercise through.
I passed the test but slipped in do.



Maybe a message will set things right.
Or should I wait another night.
Maybe’s she’s waiting for my call.
A show of friendship could say it all.
I’d like to know how she’s feeling.
Maybe like me with a heart reeling.
Will there be anger, will we cry?
Will we laugh, will we lie?
Or will she say “Oh I’m feeling fine”.
Then I’d know she’s never to be mine.
Should I except loss to relive the pain?
Or make the call to break my heart again?


The Pits

Time ticks forward and pendulums swing.
Optimism’s great but doesn’t change a thing.
The future’s unknown, sleep’s for dreams.
Sometime clarity’s not what it seems.
Questions swirl in my tired head.
Respite unfound in my tousled bed.
Broken hearts we all have felt.
The gates of hell I have knelt.
My soul’s on fire, mind’s aflame.
Yet only I there is to blame.
Anger’s felt with nowhere to go.
My fists bleed my face does show.
Passion remains through good and bad.
Words arise, though sometime sad.


Forecasting Dribble

I woke this morning to see a new way.
My eyes watched the sun rise, my soul saw gray.
Love again felt and again lost.
A heart once warm’s now plagued by frost.

Winter’s coming and with it cold.
Time rushing forward’s getting old.
Nine months high on a dreamy cloud.
Then emptiness found beneath a shroud.

A future seen, maybes had.
Baggage lugged a journey’s sad.
Weighty pasts multiply fast.
Feelings divided never last.

Mind’s write the whether of the day.
And life moves on, or so they say.


Ships Log 102418.2

The seas choppy there’s no port in sight.
A paradise found disappeared overnight.
Alone on the bridge now’s time to reflect.
When a course assured why reject?

Charts bear no point with a destination behind.
And the oceans small in space I find.
A tern overhead I’ve still to hope.
For the sailor, line’s life, there is no rope.


Always Sunny

In darkness risen for a day surely bright.
Dawn awaits the future in sight.
Weather’s uncertain but spirits alight.
Drizzle chilled can dampen not our night.
A sun shining somewhere is on my mind.
Horizons call together we’ll find.
Souls united with hearts in kind.
The warmth of two leaves darkness behind.



Another day apart is another day to start.
A day to start loving you over again.
Another night alone but we’ll talk on the phone.
And we’ll make our weekend plans.
The weekend’s nearly here to be with my dear.
And together we’ll share our wishes.
Our weekend will too soon end and a text I’ll send.
It’s another chance to say “I love you”, again.


Presently Overly Scattered

A thought a glance a word or line.
What will inspire tomorrows’ rhyme?
It could be anguish or love, death or a bug.
Maybe it’s the past, future or running out of time.
Or maybe not, sometimes the present forgot.
A mind’s sometime scattered with distraction sublime.
Walls can be high and we leap or crash.
This time time leapt for today’s tomorrow’s rhyme.