Give me a dream,
A haunting place
Where fires are alight
Raging flames
In the dead of night.
Dark skies,
With stars burning bright
Spirals of dust so far away.
Whisper to me,
Of cosmic grains
Carrying us on moonlight.
Light a candle tonight,
Wish the ancestors well,
Feed the ghosts,
Lift the veil of the bride
Here comes the souls
Marching side by side,
Good battles evil tonight.
Peer into the sky
We’re entering winter time.

I can write sad poetry
It’s all too easy
My pen can weep,
The ink will bleed,
Tears of papery grief.

My wound can ever bleed,
A heart that seeps,
A river of unease,
Tears without cease.

Why this is,
I do not know,
All the while my smile never fades,
Sunshine or rainy day,
Dreary winter or summer haze.

I’d like to sit in a paper boat,
Float downstream.
Let the river lead.
Let my poetry find relief,
All my characters finally in reprieve.

Let it be,
All within at ease,
The lion no longer need pace.
Today, tomorrow and yesterday,
Exist only within me
And tonight, the silence is all I need.

In the forest black,
Where Grimm tales stand alive,
The sun shines upon the forest floor.
Covered in the dead
Rotting to feed life,
An ode of decay that smells fresh,
Of pine, oak, lavender and elderberry.

Late summer kisses the leaves,
Leaving a brittle leaf,
Fading yellow and wishing their trees sweet release.
Tall massive trunks reach out to the sky,
Like children asking for a parents embrace
How they creak when the sky ruffles them with breeze.

The mushrooms feast,
Offering those who dare to stop and eat,
A host of certainties,
A full belly, death, or a visit to divinity
An ecstasy of colorful soliloquy,
The forest gods smile you see.

Willow leaves, twisted vines
And whispering trees
Sing of Fall and Spring,
Knowing their ghosts will rise,
Come Allerseelen the forest will exhale,
With misty tide,
Cyclic rhythm will beat
Of death, life, and all in between.

The days pass away,
Always in a whisper or a shout.
People hum to their own drums,
Never seeming to look up.

There is far too much,
Hustle bustle,
City life.
Cobblestone roads and skyscrapers,
Yesterday and tomorrow mingling,
Like time ceased to be.

I saw Merlin in the subway.
As the stations roared by,
His coat fell like a cloak,
Ruffled by a neatly trimmed beard.

An umbrella steadied his hand,
He fingered the hilt as if it were an old friend.
His eyes twinkled though his face was creased.
He talked to the angel across the way.

The ease in which they sat,
As if the stations never came
And their stop was a question of the past.

I saw Merlin in the subway,
He glanced my way,
And smiled as if I’d seen the light of day.

A year ago today,
I came to this new land
Knowing not what to expect,
Whether I’d feel at home or not

A year ago today,
I gave my old life away
I boxed and packed it safely
For the day I planned to return

Now today,
I can’t say this is home,
But on the eve of a brief return,
Home is not home anymore.

I believe I’ve lost my way,
To say I had it once seems foolish now to say.

The ground under my feet,
It’s not the same,
And that’s okay.

I’ve lost my way…
The realist thing I’ve never said
And I don’t mind wondering
If I’ll find it before my last sun kissed day.

She had been wild once
It had coursed through her veins
Pumped her heart with pleasure
And fearsome embrace

Now in peace she resides
Or so they say.
The wild stalks no more
And darkness remains outside.

When the fields of sunflowers,
Rolling gently along the hills pass by,
She lingers
Longingly gazing at the open

Knowing if she laid in the fields,
This ancient land would swallow her.
A tender embrace
A grave, perhaps one she could call home,
If there is such a place.