I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I have never met an alaskan sunrise that I did not fall in love with.
Its warmth spills over the tundra
and filters through the interstices of the bowed willows.

The rose and golden hues greet the mighty Yukon River
Where hundreds of salmon teem beneath the rising sun,
glistening all shades of pink.

The blueberries turn violet when kissed by the morning light
As do the moose as they wade through glacial lakes
Where water lilies drift around their legs.

On the coast,  
Starfish poke out from under their rocks,
And sea otters float lazily with their babies on their stomachs,
anticipating the warmth of the sun.

Every morning, I fall in love with the life and the beauty that Alaska sunrises bring.

I’m often told to write
for the feeling of escape
most times it does the opposite
i get bogged down in my ways
it taps into emotions
the ones riddled inside my brain
i’m wondering if the art is worth all of my pain.

Thinking is a blessing and a curse.
As humans we jump to conclusions and can assume the worst.

Do I look ok? Is she my friend?
I know I’m driving him over the bend.

Do you think giraffes worry, as humans do?
Is my neck too long? Is my tongue too blue?

I guess they just eat their leaves and do what they can.
It is a strange thing being a human.