I walk along this rickety bridge
that groans and creaks and bends.
With every step along its weathered face,
the crossing never ends.
I watch the sunrise, watch the sunset,
yet the far shore seems no nearer.
I carry on in halting song
and dream the border clearer.
I gaze below into the deep:
a river, slow and dreaming.
I lift my eyes to the heavy sky,
grey and vast and teeming.
Yet past the edges of my world
birds call in distant love-song.
I wonder if I'll ever join them -
still walking this bridge, still moving on.
May 7
May 7, 2026 at 8:50 PM UTC
The heavens roar and thunder
while below I cower under
the crushing, incessant sky.
Between each roar is a shrieking wail
of wind against trees so thin and frail,
daring to sweep me far away.
Drenched beneath a weeping sky,
I hurriedly flee for my home to hide
to perch myself upon my castle's high walls.
Where zealous gales and booming growls
stalk the land and relentlessly prowl,
roots take hold and rustle so free.
As I'm locked tightly in these nooks so small
of my meager castle's stolid walls,
I see vast fields of grass grow -
for one solitary,
motionless moment, I am dry,
and the world sprouts with vigor:
Horizonless fields of damp green groves
waving at me in bright, glistening rows -
and timidly I wave back.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 4:02 AM UTC
Ten fingers hold the brush
each one thin, tired, bold.
Nine words paint the picture:
bottomless blues, shimmering golds.
Eight canvases home to worlds
vibrantly, wonderfully painful.
Seven seasons pass by,
with endless strokes.
Six words writ:
For you alone.
Five fingers offer
the canvas:
Four fields,
Bleached clouds.
Three digits
point
to one:
you.
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 2:20 AM UTC
Quaint, the river burls,
Hazy, the meadow lies;
Soft, yielding soil where
weary friends kneeled.
Kneeling beside the stream,
hushed in its tepid flow,
seeking a stillness where
water comes tumbling -
only discovering
cool, formless indifference
numbing the mind and
whisking it away
listlessly.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 9:18 PM UTC
A lonely thing
sits upon the horizon
gazing at a
blinding, fleeting fire.
It wonders,
"What?"
"What," it questions
but never why -
fixed on the warm,
boundless blaze of
distant glamor.
Brilliant, searing white
turns to dancing reds,
coppers, blues and
flushed pinks,
then blinks.
The lonely thing -
awestruck -
blinks back,
and in an eternal instant
never sees again.
The memory is etched,
tender and exact,
so that radiant flare
may burn eternal
in its dim,
hushed heart.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
An inky black caresses
a hushed, tentative nook.
Creep quietly within,
push aside the curtain to find
a deep warmth and
friendly, quiet face.
Break no silence
and see a vast, alien world
of leafy green
and solid golds -
but amidst the sight,
while orbiting this
tranquil, languid world,
be embraced by the
hushed, tentative nook
whose dreams radiate
a warmth deeper,
softer
than he speaks.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 8:55 PM UTC
Winter returns
Plains of frozen grass
White snow dusts
Fields that look like glass.
In that field
Is a stone,
Chiselled, placed
Inscripted, alone.
I know it well
Flowers I've placed, brilliant
Frost covers its face
It stands resilient.
Through my years -
So long they've been -
I honor its dreamer
As though my kin.
When spring breezes
Melt away snow,
I see inside:
I was hollow.
The flowers of plastic,
No case inside,
And not an inch
For anyone to hide.
Frost still fills
The chiselled letters
Acting like a veil
Held by frozen fetters.
So I watch it
Through summer's heat,
Autumn's fall,
And always wonder.
But my years
They have shortened.
As my dreams pass,
So do my burdens.
My dreams, I see
Drag me downwards
Into the earth
While my soul drifts onwards.
As winter bellows
It drags me in:
A younger me,
A dreamer, to the grave.
Snow, so cold,
Packs the hole full,
Carries frozen flowers,
And lets me lull
In that field
Where a stone
Chiselled and placed
Is for me alone
And that dreamer,
Young but tired,
Lays down still
And silently expires.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 4:05 AM UTC
A frosted window
overlooks a land.
Dimly lit, white streets
ant-like homes
arranged in neat rows.
Beyond the homes lies
a moonlit, bottomless sea.
I watch it heave and turn
beneath the moon,
carrying night toward day.
Early each morning
when I sip hot coffee
I peer out at the chilly sun.
A small smear
swings high and sings.
But the song it sings
is not familiar to me -
a mechanical keen,
a howling note
no other bird will answer.
The crows ignore it.
Swallows scatter and flee
when the odd bird draws near
as though it were a hawk.
It screams overhead, and I step back.
I see it soar for just a moment:
The sleek head
cowled in gunmetal gray,
screeching past and away,
close enough to rattle glass.
But deeper still
there is a face
behind black eyes,
behind the hardened shell.
A human face that seems to smile -
or do I only hope it does?
Does the pilot see me too,
a figure at a frosted window,
or am I just landscape
passing below?
Still, a greeting -
wings waggling, dipping,
then gone below blue sky,
beyond the hills
to wherever it goes.
Tomorrow, I know,
I will stand here again
with my coffee growing cold,
and we will both say hello
like distant friends.
Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 6:12 AM UTC
Lost between ancient trees,
Trees lost in ancient lands.
Stale skies deliver a stale breeze
As I walk through oft-walked paths.
The path is long, eternally dim
And every sign's message is withered.
But these words I've learned like hymns,
Yet never sing, never whisper.
The map I hold urges me there
But despite all I bring myself here,
Despite the truth of which I'm aware
But fear bars belief, and solitude, proof.
When at last I've travelled uncounted leagues
The trees take pity and murmur to me
An ancient truth I've known always and grieved:
The map I held to glory leads.
Though I've known it all along
It's only now I find the strength
To sing at last an honest song
And walk the true path I dearly want.
My steps will stumble, stagger and fall
But now, at last, I welcome the way,
The way I've known through it all,
And trust the map I've always held.
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 4:07 AM UTC
A quiet home amidst the deep
Where all my troubles come to sleep
Before the furnace of unspoken worry
Lay all my woes and silent fury
Here the day is pondered through the night
In hopes that its warmth will be found right
To find the sun guides the soul with care
Or find that nothing was ever truly there.
But in my home a viper lies and strikes
It petrifies thought and infects them with blight
Ensnares my thoughts where safety once lay
And ensures each moment is fevered malaise.
When the fangs of the viper finally retract
And my mind they finally detract
I stand still knowing what must be
But find myself unable, asking “Why me?”
Still every night I feed the serpent
And my home becomes its faithful servant
Despite a truth I always seek
My strength to discover is always meek.
I scrape and scramble and discover scant
A prophesied, golden truth I know I can’t
And knowing this, still, I know I must
Put in this twisted prophesy my fragile trust
Lest my home behold itself to the viper
Or find itself engulfed in its own fire.
A fire in my home meant to be silent
And where all my worries may finally sleep.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 12:03 AM UTC