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TD Nov 12
The world is asleep
like dogs who’ve sipped the last dregs
from their bitter cup.

It is dying as it spins
aimlessly, pillaging time and space
with nothing on its mind
but to chase after darkness.

The moon has turned his eyes away
and the sun has fallen dim.
Like stars who’ve shouted light
until their bright voices fade.

“Wake up wake up
before our dying stench
finds a place between your dreams
and waking.

Before your breath wavers
like a tremor in a wizened hand..
before your shadows fill the void
with more emptiness..”

before the fallen world never wakes again.
Oct 14 · 215
Dancing lightly
TD Oct 14
There are times when I see my solitude
as lazy swirls in warm sand

fingertips of life gently teasing their granules into shapes I do not recognize

yet they bring comfort in their fluidity.

I can’t help but escape to moments
that mean more than me

and so much more to those who wander times sandy shores seeking their own solace

imagining what types of creatures live
to make such intriguing trails

and never linger to share them.

There is a kind of beauty in that..
such beauty there is and never was.
Sep 28 · 54
Sheldon’s Efigy
TD Sep 28
Sorrows slither
their forked tongue
into my wounded side.

The blade glimmers
tear drops in the moonlight
sullen ripples on an inky pool

Shivering shadows
a shriveled soul
wastes away

as a thousand suns set
behind a broken shell
of what once was

a Faberge egg.

All the jewels were stolen.
Sep 27 · 119
I weary of
TD Sep 27
Whiskey eyes
and dilated pupils
empty platitudes
and violence in the night

shadows were a midnight fancy
now the sun has kissed steel shackles
skeletal wrists casually twitching
as saliva forms atop blistered lips

aww you were so free
until light revealed the darkness
that crept in while you were dozing
a willful victim to a harlot’s promise

You played the game
then you were played
Check?! Mate?!

I wish you’d stayed a ******
to the plight of thousands
instead crystal halos
teased your sullen pout
with promises of soaring death
and playful romps in the hay.

your soul still shines
but I long for your tired eyes
and sober smile

right now..
Sep 3 · 103
Being “Grounded”
TD Sep 3
Nefarious are
steepled grays
how they shift and change
before curious fingers can rub
such gristly cheeks

taunting curiosity
with a shady smile

Flushed bits of light
peek in dappled disarray
through patterned wisps
as they meander
despite gravity’s
lazy drawl

that whispers tales
of flightless birds
and craft less pilots
amid the animus
of our longing gazes

and we recognize
is it’s own snare

ankles are turned
and pink with promise

What a pious flirtation!
Imagine a cheeky teen with hyperbolic tendencies—such precociousness!

Or on a more serious note* a sky full of grey lovely erratic clouds floating with peek a boo views of dazzling pinks and peaches.
Jul 30 · 499
Mutterings (In)-Route
TD Jul 30
I secretly long  
to be loved by a writer..

(then reality strikes)

I snap my compact closed
bury it in my junk drawer

and accept what will never be.
Plot twist* I need to be content that I may never feel I’m a writer despite my inane longing to.
Jul 25 · 637
True Crime
TD Jul 25
See the shadow art
moving figures
encased in cloth
with solemn eyes

darkness clings—dogged
chasing light away
from aching fingertips
craving the feel of a sunlit smile.

I reach for
gentle kisses of death
more fervently
than a lover’s embrace.

How cruel it is
when daggers
have more privilege
than a human’s seeking touch.
I miss humanity and smiling lips.
Violent acts seem a more accepted means of death than that of a meaningful embrace. Albeit I am a bit of a romantic yet still—the world is twisted.

“Oh happy dagger” Shakespeare—how fitting.

The loss of human touch—may drive a long-term loss of humanity—of a personal caring for each other. We are reduced to numbers and statistics..while lacking the comfort that comes from experiencing each other as living breathing subjects rather than objects. It’s tragic—that our concern for others safety could potentially erode the very fabric of a loving society. It’s seems a bit counterintuitive really. How much longer will we hold up under the strain until our “smiles splinter like brittle mirrors.”
Jul 22 · 255
Not For Ever
TD Jul 22
A moon in smog
smudged headlights dim
grasping at assurance
uncertainty filters in.

The knotted rope is trimmed.

Our lives short-lived
and then eternity.
Who holds the string
that pulls me free?

Is he charcoal dust
and coughing lung
pillaged hopelessness
creeping among?


The daring stars that trumpet shine
strike a tale that bears more song
triumphs lost are only stalled
dying giants sailing on—

when everything is sighing.

Free, the burdens all gone  
shallow dreams weren’t meant to stay
his wide-eyed glimmer waits
a final day

when pure oxygen moves without restraint
life becomes more  
carefree eyes and scarred moons
the after and their before.

Hello, beginning
I’ll gulp you in.
Jul 7 · 240
Intentionally Obtuse
TD Jul 7
Everyone has their own “Achilles,”

mine goes by a different name.
Jul 7 · 123
Pinocchio Peeps
TD Jul 7
It’s difficult to be honest

especially when I’m telling

myself lies.

For example,

here’s a doozy:

“I’m fine.”
Jun 27 · 126
Can be Deceiving
TD Jun 27
As I’ve aged
atop a rich mahogany stain,

musty crumpled kerchief
slouched against
a silver gilded hand mirror
that never lost its appeal—

I’ve realized
I’ve experienced more life
than vanity can ever reflect.
Jun 18 · 133
TD Jun 18
Tardy light
trickles through
as darkness clangs
loudly in response.

It glances
off silver blades
and reflections framed
by splattered stains.

The flesh wounds
and nothing worldly

Such the cause
on a fiery bent
teased to life
by callous regret.

Iron hot
branded threats
fashioned after blood moons
and bitterness.

We wave battles
against ocean’s tide
loosing devils
and bolstering pride.

And wonder why
some roving eye
seethes at the mention
of forgiveness.

Grace is for all
a true warrior
begins with “I am”
and never starts with violence.

It is finished.
We have to be the light...although admittedly some of us arrived later than we could have.
Have brave and do all in love.
Jun 9 · 170
TD Jun 9
There are real victims
and then
there are the actors.

Hollywood must be
a barren wasteland
at the moment.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Jun 7 · 259
TD Jun 7
Forgiveness changes hearts,
hatred changes hearts.

I’d go with the first option.
One is a positive action the other a feeling that can cause negative actions/reactions.

Those who forgive can make change that not only betters themselves but those around them.
May 25 · 175
Humble American Pie
TD May 25
Free because of love
and choosing to be enslaved to it.
Without a willingness to serve
liberty would be a shallow goal
beaten to the grave.
And pride—
a cold comfort.
Thank you to all who have humbly given of themselves to serve others. You are the heroes, those who sacrifice your comfort for our good.

1 Peter 2:16
May 12 · 117
I’ll Keep My Crutch
TD May 12
I am weaker than I seem—
a product of what will never be..
my crutch hewn from the cypress tree.

As I journey such deceptive trails
along cratered depths and rocky ground
life is swollen—there—sorrows abound.

Tottering amid the dips and turns
a babe in armor while guardians stalk
my lame feet stumble—walk.

The gnarled companion
wizened with age.
He battles on while trials rage.

I couldn’t preview
such an upper hand
my knees too spindly for me to stand.

On my own
I fail the storm
my cypress crutch—lukewarm.

But take it in
a desperate grip
it becomes a stewards ship.

And knights
my weighted shoulders light.
He storms the shores beyond my sight.

I’ll take my crutch
He’ll take the blame.
And I’ll never be the same.

Thank God.
His cause was written before my name.
May 10 · 184
Reticent Reminder
TD May 10
Blood spilled in
sacrifice is
healing scents
to an aching heart-
a lily bloom
on a spring morning--

in selfishness
it's a stench that
corrodes innocence--
delicate lavender shriveled
by drought.

Please do not crush these tender petals.
May 10 · 70
TD May 10
The emptiness seeps
deep in bones
a tickle of awareness
along the spine

In seeking warmth
the lost are drenched
in forsaken dreams
difficult to define

Peering through
the foggy lens
where hope once clung
they discover drought

For everything
they've found
in true self
have left them overcome.

And nothing
is the whispered truth
that sits like frozen crystals
on a downturned lash.

And nothing is
an existence left
without hope of more
then what's inside.

My tears fall
as I see death
taunting dying eyes.

A soul with everything
what makes life
purposeful design.

A tragedy once slept
in silken cloths
and ***** of twine.
Ignorant and cold

In luxury
they lose what loss
they seek
coaxed by indifference.

And shatter the heart
of the Lighthouse Watch
in whose beacon shines
an eternity of peace.

My sorrow runs deep
as our tattered remains
meet jagged rocks
with no relief.

We all are wrecked
pieces of humanity.
Who tether to shores
and docks of wood and stone.

When all we really need
is to fly
beyond our narrow view,
to the arms of the One
who gives us wings
to soar.
TD Apr 6
I write on the edge of falling off notes
the downturn tossing sobs
scattered broken stems
across a forest floor.

Peeking giants tower above
bare feet run aground
with sharp stones and words
the cotton clouds have become undone.

Lazy nodding buds
are apathetic companions
as smoke leaches into dreams
covering sighs with ash and dust.

My ink clings to pages
grasping at something more
while soil stained fingers
clench at once was.
Mar 18 · 174
Softening Edges
TD Mar 18
catches on mossy greens
claiming the side of an impervious

A blunt stroke
in a world of extremes
blurring symmetry
with a deliberate slant.

Indifferent to approachable
stalwart to still.

A paint-laden brush
turning unwavering guards
into the most trusted
of confidantes.

I’m drawn to nurse
the errant side
with a gentle hand
to coax a testimony of truth.

A humbled servant once a king.
A dying giant to a ***** friend.


Once a professor of celestial beings
now a hopeful star gazer.

The weathered skin worn
by a fallen age
now at the pleasure
of a wanderer’s intrigue.

A witness.

Standing assured
the immovable
holds his post
to bespeak a worthy tale.

I am hard-put to deny him.

They who reached for heaven
never would achieve it.
Yet in civilian garb
vulnerability laid bare, exposed.

Sentinels become saints,
and I cannot ignore their courage.
Moss is a clue to the environment around a tree. It signals excessive moisture and that the air around the tree is unpolluted—pure. Meanwhile too much moss can cause a tree to become unbalanced “weak” during a wind storm. Just the right amount of moss adds beauty without destruction, a delicate look of vulnerability.
TD Mar 16
you cut through our darkest fears.
When feverish whispers tease minds
light reflects inner prisms.

You glimmer within waves of despair
like treasured pearls.
And flicker a flame of truth
with a tongue that proclaims”Tomorrow!”

I will not cower at broken promises
empty vows of death
stirring hot embers, releasing cinders
to blind the eyes with stolen light.

I charge gossipmongers unhinged glee
with a sword that slays open-ended lies.
Their tools wielded to ratchet panic
an odorous stench to honesty.

Control is faulty weight in hand
that never rests the scales.
We must stand against war mongrels,
who pleasure in our mortality.

Amid mitigated tragedy
wastrel gasps of power-gluttons rise
a cacophony of uncaring fools
who despise a steady plod.

The stench of dying honor wafts
through gaping corridors.
Our headlines play a thoughtless dirge
muffling light with gloom.

Some may say realism rings true
in the light of day.
Yet putrid fantasies of failure
are not truth.

How quickly they run to *****
their sickly pale and gloom.
They turn our vulnerable heads
on pikes made of false platitudes.

We can drown the din
be wise and live
Because we know what
wields the most powerful cure.  

and she endures.
—the diamond edged blade.
Mar 4 · 150
Coming to Court
TD Mar 4
The scowling moon
sports a feathery mustache.
His countenance
and dashing upper lip
affronted thwarted
by teasing wisps askew.

Still he preens pale
a veritable dandy
against an obsidian cape
donned in a fit of pique.
Brooding, refined.

And underneath his shadows cast
tittering is heard
fans and hearts a flutter
as his path draws coquettish glances
longing trails impressions
left by his buckled heels.
TD Feb 24
these words, this moment.
The sincerity was lost to me
and now.

Standing on a curb, waiting
waiting for your promises
to dissipate and clear.
For you to just show up,
just be there.

Waiting for you to really see me.
Waiting for you to want me.
To want me more than your shadows
--your hollow happiness.

Shallow pleasure that kept your soul from living.
Feelings that were more important than me.
Feelings that are treacherously blind.
Feelings that couldn't be trusted to save you--
to save me from my pain.

Feelings that tore you away and into me,
passion for a supernova.

Contented children all around
running to open arms
gentle voices calling names
never mine.
Joyful laughter buoyant in the wind.
failed to block the noises in my head.
No one could see my unraveling.

I'm hollow.

When you could reach me,
how close I was to you.
How close you could have been
to watch me shine.
And now... sorrow is seeping out
of everything I am.

My worn-out tennis shoes,
soaked through from wet mounds of green.
The doctored shirt I patched
with bits of string and wounded eyes,
threadbare against the breeze.

I waited.
Seasons, years, decades,
I waited

Life was easier to grasp then
too far out of my reach.
You held onto the stars
without me.
Did they burn?

Did it sting when you fell
from the fathomless sky
deep into pitless shells,
withered remains of a soul
so precious--still.

I met you
where brightly colored orbs
hadn't dimmed.
I ran to you with innocence
and was broken pieces in hours--days.

You were someone in the moon
a colorless smile, so pale.
Just that glimpse was more--
more than nothing--
and everything.

Even now I dream of cloudless skies
where your eyes made sense--focused,
not pulled away by butterflies
and bits of tape.

I sobbed on the curb
just once
milling bodies swarming about
a choking heat
on a summer day.

My feet were numb
and tears hot
as I watched you evaporate
into the clouds
when I was a child who used to dream
of your happiness being mine.
I wasn’t enough.

I couldn't make it happen
but oh how I tried.
How I tried to be your something more
until you forgot everything but you
and I forgot myself.

It's all about feelings, right?!
How did it make you feel?
Trust your heart they say.
You did.. and I lost you to it
your pulse dead on your lips
but feelings are more important than truth.

It's fine
because that’s what you wanted to hear.

Drug addiction murders childhoods. Or perhaps it is the feelings/the emptiness that drove the need to try drugs in the first place.
Feb 11 · 210
One Truth Saves
TD Feb 11
I will not welcome what darkness paints
because it carries with it pain.

To immortalize a dimming refrain
with notes that train my heart to mourn

I cannot love such tragedy born
by doubt that haunts the foaming shores.

Amid the sorrow that blindness pours,
I refuse to give the nod to falling away.

Instead—I’ll cling to words that say..
“open armed—embrace the light!”

I will tread steadfast on the blight
and scorch it with a soul on fire.

Where passion extinguishes with desire
love sustains.

I know deep within
Eternity is made where grace remains.
Feb 6 · 731
Always Grandpa “B”
TD Feb 6
(I miss those moments
when you smiled)

I hammered madly on the ivories
I imagined an open stage
I danced and twirled

I saw your grinning eyes
over your open newspaper
a wink and a nod

You tapped your feet in time
and clapped when I’d pretend to try.

But most of all I miss
your quiet presence
a comforting constant
during the awkward years
when every day was a second away

from tears.

And that smile...
Jan 22 · 104
TD Jan 22
We long for days where mornings draped in silken mystery are lined with nights whose crescent moons reflect our darkened stars.

We crave the gentle whisper of solitude that mountains claim and valleys seek in rolling hills.

We chase the rainbows encased in Sorrow's cloudy eyes and yearn for frosted trees and sullen brooks.

We aim to reach the towering peaks of progress with determined strides but forget to claim the peace that only regressive sighs provide.
Jan 15 · 182
Snow Reflectors
TD Jan 15
Through the wintry mists
though seasons crisply march
over sloping hills
and evergreens
I slide

down dreaming tufts of white
where narrow fantasies fill
a panoramic mind
with novelties and trivial joy
to gain more solid ground.

Lost inside such graphite char
the mysteries of the world reveal
a meaning more stark
than smiling eyes and gamboling hearts
would ever see.

Scanning in certainty
for matted footprints
to mar the driven snow
desperate gazes pierce the sky
with anxious fingers chilled.

Somewhere warm bones dance
in tree iced seas
of forest frost and fantasy
or sitting in snow castle paths
despite the looming clouds.

(Now I ask
who is happier?)

And only seek the twinkle
because storms are here forever
but snow never lasts.

(Unless you live in Antarctica;)
Jan 7 · 198
Beamish Bandit
TD Jan 7
If I stole a star,
I could be brilliant.
Dec 2019 · 216
Tropical Vacate
TD Dec 2019
the sun shone through.

eyes glowed crystal blue.

white skin sparkled pale and soft.

his smile dripped with glee.

as warmth offered quick respite.

And Mr. Snowman welcomed his rest
vacating with the light.
Dec 2019 · 219
Fuzzy Thoughts
TD Dec 2019
Green felt planks
creaking at a glance
darting toddler feet
race on ancient stairs
to crest the morning sun.

Dust laced beams
slanting through
steepled fingertips
delight dancing images
hidden stories yet to speak.

Excitement builds
on squeaky springs
where thoughts bounce
on top of young dreams
and hasten to linger.

Scents of coffee beans
and noble trees
sift through unfiltered
screens of light
mountain serenades.

Tiny eyes peer
through ancient floor vents
at crowning white
where aproned ladies graze
stirring images of happy holidays.

Giggling "hellos"
hopeful orbs seek
high above the rooster crows.
A Christmas morning
just waiting to yawn.

Little tots
with fuzzy slippered toes
visions of vintage ladies
and cookies stay the winter chill.
"Good Morning, little Dawn."

Laughing in the dark
December days crawl
over tripping feet
and memories
making smiles crease
never ceasing to amaze.

Decades of moments
slip between
the floorboards and reality
dashing images with ampersands
& sighs.
As a child my fondest memories of the holidays were set in the backdrop of my grandmother's centuries old two story house. I remember peering through the floor vent watching Grandma prepare her offerings of coffee and buttered toast on Christmas morning and knowing contentment.
Dec 2019 · 179
Cold Season
TD Dec 2019
Hello Tissue Box,
You are my new best friend..
Don’t be offended if I use you all up and toss you in the trash. It’s nothing personal.
My nose just decided it was time..
to go crazy!

Ughh..colds are dumb! ;)
Dec 2019 · 181
Im-Perfectly Coiffed
TD Dec 2019
Her white hair spilled
spreading over hills
for aching cavities filled
their corroded gaps gently soothed.

Soft to a warming touch
brittle to shadowy gazes
chalky white and such
the state of eyes chilled in desperation.

Her banquet hollow
to a mourning form
echoing walls for the swallow
where day dawns sweetly at the sound.

Nature craves her tendrils sweeping
to tease the weary hands of season
revealing strands to anguished weeping
and draping the paths of sorrow
in lacy fripperies more fanciful than words...
Nov 2019 · 280
De-Scent of Pining
TD Nov 2019
I write like mad
because demons chase insanity.
So do memories.
Nov 2019 · 190
Autumn Empathy
TD Nov 2019
cold the crow sighs
his black eyes
squinting in the light
the scarecrow squawks

his talon's---straw feet
strands brushing tottering colors
nestled in haphazard piles

and below in icy chill
I sigh
my nose buried in time
whose fallen minutes lay

haphazardly in a pile
of autumn handkerchiefs
and ribboned breaths..

leaf(v)ing much to be desired
Nov 2019 · 315
Flickering Spheres
TD Nov 2019
We are waiting for that moment of discovery..
when our prose become eyes to the world.

And the world becomes our eyes.
TD Oct 2019
The yawning expanse widens
cloaked in mystery
or mistaken identity.

As I age I touch
questions that stretch
into winding miles.

At the end of it all
the gap-toothed smile of time
bazaars with wide-mouthed clowns
begin to grab at eyes.

And I tilt towards
their callous abyss.
Longing for the wonder
and the pleasures
a childhood braves.

Realities yearn for bliss
despite their ****** garments
their blush is hidden by strips of cloth

and just a hint
of feverish insanity.
Oct 2019 · 441
Piece-Meal Season
TD Oct 2019
along the tops of trees
memories loop
skipping records and stones
time framed in colored tones

leafing through the skies
irises are eyes
in techni—-famed
and petals untamed

wincing in the stark
where nightingales
sighed their last
their audience aghast

as they drip their demise
from teary heights—a prize
awaits in nepotistic fashion

autumn embraces the sun
and cold, the passion
Some trickling thoughts I had this eve....
Sep 2019 · 354
A Romantic Gollum
TD Sep 2019
Could I

catch a raindrop on my lips and
spare it a kiss?

taste moments like whispers of romance
teasing my dreams?

wonder at the miracle of life
as it breathes?

delight at a horizon dipped
in diaphanous seas?

I have,

I want more.
Sep 2019 · 829
Zeus Syndrome
TD Sep 2019
Billows the volcano angrily
lava spittle dribbling down his chin,
"I'm at the mercy of the clock.."
his lolling drone like a dull metronome
clanging to and fro.

Fists shake in angst
their ephemeral silhouettes
disintegrating into the miasma.

Biding our time
we are all just blowing smoke

and cancer sells.
I apologize for this. I'm not trying to be so fatalistic at all really. As humans, I feel we chase after permanence like it was something to grasp--like we have that kind of power, control. We can make good choices in life, but to say that we control outcomes entirely seems a bit conceited/foolhardy really. We can impact change, but our outcomes depend on something more, at least that's how I believe.
Sep 2019 · 612
Madrone Medley
TD Sep 2019
Verde the solace seethes
jealous of the tumbling wind
tossing bountiful waves about
in careless patulous splendor.

Out of the burning light
tendrils warm anfractuous trails
placid to the touch
alive beneath leathery veins.

Their tenuous links splinter
unaware of their impending plight.
The nights will give way
to mornings of gold and dying.

But I know--
after it all
new life will bring solace
the company she longs for
--once more.
Inspired by: the moments of contentment I felt when standing near our old madrone tree, as a child, before when I felt alone, and after when I was surrounded by love.

Solace isn't being alone
only that we've experienced it
and understand
there is more life
that we haven't met.
Sep 2019 · 850
Ambivalent Altar
TD Sep 2019
There's a genius waiting in the wings,
but I have yet to discover him.
Once I've ventured
beyond my perch
I may by chance meet his form
and claim him for my own.
As of yet...
I'm leaning towards precarious.
Aug 2019 · 606
TD Aug 2019
“Any news is good news.”
Lies—all lies!

“No news is good news.”
True—all true?
Aug 2019 · 720
Plight of the Plunderer
TD Aug 2019
The shape of your oceans'
crescent moons and trumpets cast
exude music insipid--inspired
mellifluous, austere, untamed.

Their restless hands raised,
lilting rivulets
emboldened, brash.

In the shallows
coaxing sighs from darting thoughts
curved lips that sip at soul-searching.

In the deep
your presence billows, gapes
the lustrous strands of time
lapping at the shore
pillaging our rocky clefts.

Your form
free, like words that
slick the pages of our moments
steeped in yesteryears
dark with depth, boundless.

If I plunder your lines
seek out the sullen darkness
tread your sunlit blues,
dare I? Should I?

Amid your tempting swells
and endless salutations
I'm prone to lose sight
of what is more than oceans
and what is less than real.

Yet, you are the tears that linger
in the peripheral,
the million eyes
meeting their purpose
on a stormy night.

And I begin to build
my rudderless vessel
in hopes of catching a glimpse
of your veiled treasures
because I can't find my own.

Jul 2019 · 1.1k
Shallow Pots
TD Jul 2019
Opalescent emotions/thoughts riotous
tossed like drowsy eyed flora
in dove-eyed bed sheets
their nuances silken edged
and cool to the touch.

Sunlight drives winks of promise
the beckoning beam
a gossip mongers wicked tongue
as tortured petals/seeds
share their space
so indiscreetly.

Boasting a spider creed
a web of delicate mazes
that twist and choke
the mixed bouquet
struggles for forbearance
and composure.

Ahh you are a funny bunch
eager to burst forth
without a root to bear
beautiful in your swilling path
unsubstantial at best..

And yet you bloom so beautifully
the experience untamed
and I am quite fond of it.

Blossoms no matter how reckless
leave behind sweet dreams to be desired.

And I am all about dreams.
Jul 2019 · 396
TD Jul 2019
Can I be a little impetuous please?
I’ll show off my petticoats
and striped stockings.
The world a dance floor
crazy, wonderful
I’ll twirl barefoot
on its sullen brow and lucid eyes.
And when I’m finished
my curtsey will be the envy
of the sky.
And the world a lovely shade of pink.
Jul 2019 · 584
Ugly Sweater
TD Jul 2019
Why do I crave it so ..
to be desirable..
the longing spins
under my lids
like dancing dervishes..

Fighting the urge
selfie posts
and crying jags
I turn away from kind eyes
and words..
like I’ve found the answer.

And I have
but my heart tells lies
I know the truth
is in my soul
and yet darkness pervades.

Why can’t I accept my weaknesses
are stitched in for a purpose?
Still I keep unraveling

but I am—a tapestry
designed in love.
Jun 2019 · 809
Living Notes
TD Jun 2019
Tremors trill
feathery wisps of time
through tired members
resting on bleached white ivory.

The song whispers on
long after
the music dies.
Jun 2019 · 230
Eternity Internal
TD Jun 2019
If I were a closet writer—
peeking out behind the coats
staring into a world
innocently wondrous

suspended on a dream
that imagined the world at its first sun
like the smile before
a tear ever fell

existing in the moment
between love and poignant pain,
where rainbows were a glimmer
and horizons an inceptive hush

Heaven could be real—

and I believe it can.
Inspired by: child-like faith
May 2019 · 2.2k
Tangible Landscapes
TD May 2019
The moon dripped from her lips,
a liquid glow,
a hypnotic swell,
flowing over the vast  
valleys of life.

She kissed the contouring shadows
with vows that dimmed
with every breaking

Her darkness
in stark contrast
to the smiles in her eyes.  

Some say the soul is in the eyes,
but aww the lips
are tactile pleasures defined.
May 2019 · 546
Rip Van Wrinkle-Free
TD May 2019
The Willow cried
her trickling sobs
a shadowy space
between two
shoulder blades.

Alone, there a girl
perched precariously
her smiling mouth
and frowning eyes
a tentative nod

held by mounds of grass
and a propensity
for sensitivity.

She could tumble dry
or get caught up
in a waterfall of
tender sentiments.

She never could decide.
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