There within my prison cell,
Your words found their way to me.
Bringing with them inspiration,
Of how incredible life could be.
I wonder if when you wrote them,
You knew they held the key,
That would unlock this soul of mine,
And somehow set me free.

Will my final act be finished,
Or interrupted premature?
Will my soul ever reach fruition,
And just how can I be sure?

That all my tasks will be completed,
Before death claims my last?,
That every action's been performed,
Before my time has passed?

That every lesson has been learned,
That every due tear's been shed?
That every purpose that I hold,
Has been done before I'm dead?

That every seed has been planted,
And every harvest has been sown?
That every "thank you" has been spoken,
To the inspiring souls I've known?

That every word has been written,
That every wrong has been made right?
That I've become all I was meant to be,
Before I lose this mortal fight?

Will my final act be finished,
Or interrupted premature?
Will my soul ever reach fruition,
Just how can I be sure?

We always bargain death,
Assume tomorrow before dawn.
Believing in another moment,
Right until that moment's gone.
Another day, another hour,
More time to get to know,
Yet another incredible soul,
Before it's time to go.
But one unexpected dawn,
A kindred soul departs,
Leaving traces of himself,
As words within our hearts.
And the whole world is weeping,
Unaware though they may grieve,
They suffered a magnificent loss,
On the day he had to leave.

If the wind blew me to your door,
Would you open it fast or slow?
Would my heart swell with a joy,
Of a love that I think I know?
Would it be like coming home again,
Would you invite me to stay,
To sit and share and pass the hours,
Until we've lost the day.
Would your eyes mirror everything,
That mine are sure to show,
If the wind blew me to your door,
Would you open it fast or slow?

Perhaps happily ever-after will come,
After I breathe my last,
Because I surely don't have it now,
Nor have I in the past.
Perhaps they are just words made up,
A fallacy so it seems,
From the pens of those who still believe,
In unobtainable dreams.
Or perhaps it is merely a silly idea,
That took quite a hold,
In the hearts of so many little girls,
A million copies sold.
And I don't think I'll ever find it,
No matter how hard I look,
Except of course on lonely nights,
When I open up a book.

If I ever lose my love of poetry,
Please read me a little Pope,
He had a way of inspiring me,
Out of boredom bringing hope.
Or dig out some old Whitman,
So I can see nature new again,
Or Shakespeare for an illusion,
Of how things were back then.
If none of these can bring it back,
And no thrill swells in my chest,
Break out my Canadian poet,
Because I loved him the best.

The fire is beginning to smolder
other than few small pieces of transparent orange.
No need to put it out
it will take care of that itself.
There is no fuel left to burn.
And even with all the air in the world,
You must have substance
...to have fire.
I will move out of the way of the lazy smoke.
It causes my eyes to tear.

In the middle of a love affair,
That is broken at each end,
Where I did not find a soulmate,
But I sure did lose a friend.
It was a chance worth taking,
And I knew from the start,
Just what would be sacrificed,
Being greedy with my heart.
Why? when things are going great,
Do we push for something more,
I should've just been satisfied,
With the way we were before.
Because now I find, I have less,
Than I had on even Day One,
And I feel even more empty now,
And this is not much fun,
Being....
In the middle of a love affair,
That is broken at each end,
Where I did not find a soulmate,
But I sure did lose a friend.

The glare of the monitor is a bit much tonight.
I turn it a shade down, though the button is hard to find in the dark.
I left my lap tray with the book light in the dining room and it's too dark to go looking for it now.
I shouldn't even be on here.
It's way late and I am way tired.
Unfortunately, loneliness causes awesome insomnia.
So I got on here to maybe find some company, but so far that hasn't happened.
So I am writing in the dark, struggling to find the keys, and writing this scribble, which is taking twice as long as it should.
You would think the screen lights would illuminate the keyboard a bit but somehow it doesn't work like that.
I can't understand why I feel like I could use a pair of Ray-bans right now but I can't see a **** thing.
Anyway going to shut her down now and lie awake in the dark some more.
I really hate being alone.

Well, it appears he is not coming,
Even a smile can't hide the hurt,
People are staring, and  I feel so silly,
In my "Looking for Trouble?" shirt.

The Arrival's Lounge is empty,
Which caused another pang in my chest,
I really believed that he was different.
But he is just like all the rest.

And I really needed to be alone,
So I found the nearest hiding place,
And in a stall in the ladies bathroom,
Silent tears rolled down my face.

And after a time my eyes went dry,
Though the pain remained inside,
How could the sun be shining bright,
When all my dreams had died?

And as if, in a fog, I ambled outside,
Feet moving without even a care,
For some reason towards a shade tree,
Which had somebody resting there.

And I stopped to sit for just a while,
On the opposite side of that tree,
Wishing the one I'd been waiting on,
Was sitting right next to me.

Oh! Dear Sun! Dear friend of mine,
With your infinite healing powers,
You've warmed my whole,
Relaxed my soul,
Through the endless trying hours.

Granted strength within a promise,
And enlightened all visions seen,
Helped me cope,
Brought me hope,
Of a life like you....serene.

And you are there, despite the storm,
To gift a lesser shade of black,
With just a hint,
When I am spent,
You can bring my spirit back.

Under your pardon, I've often laid,
Surrendered, naked, and new.
I dare to dream,
With every beam,
Of a love that's just like you.

I guess I'll just wait in baggage claim forever,
But you know what? That's okay.
I've been guessing which bag belongs to who,
For the better part of the day.
And I am matching them most effortlessly,
Most people are easily read,
"The khaki bag with the khaki pants",
Goes the dialogue in my head.
It's a game I have found, helps pass the time,
Makes my mood a bit more light,
While I stand with my thumb, you know where,
Expecting a cancelled flight.

From here I spy the baggage claim,
And my eyes dart frantically,
Nerves are twisted, stomach tied,
As I fidget quite anxiously.
There's a khaki bag there all alone,
Circling yet again once more,
And I am certain it must belong to,
The one that I'm waiting for.
Will he appear the way I imagined,
And will he even recognize,
Just who I am and all my hopes,
When he looks into my eyes.
Now I've begun to wring my hands,
My hives are starting to show.
Where's the one I'm searching for?
The flight landed so long ago.
All at once, I feel a hint of breath,
And a chill runs down my spine,
I turn, and I finally meet the one,
Whose soul is merged with mine.

The air is getting heavier,
With each shallow breath I take,
Struggle gives way to stridor,
And leaves pure panic in it's wake.
And just as any drowning victim would,
I desperately flail around,
Upwards seeking outstretched hand,
Below for solid ground.
Yet still I find no glimpse of you,
There isn't a single calming hint,
And now I am floating aimlessly,
For I know not where you went.
No purpose left to follow,
No vision still to seek,
Without my soul's life jacket,
My future looks quite bleak.

I have never seen a snow bank,
Nor have I ever flown,
To any distant place or time,
I have not always known.
Upon my inner eye I find,
Images in repeat,
Filled of where I long to be,
Yet can not move thy feet.
Every lonely meager wind,
Invokes impatient will,
Toward all I can't envision,
Yet my heart does thrill.
Soul will not be silent,
No rest at all abound,
Until it follow's distant call,
And it's home is found.

When every single rabbit's foot is rubbed down to the core,
And all your note's in lil' bottles fail to reach the shore,
And you realize that no *** of gold, has, nor will be found,
And not even one, heads-up penny, remains on any ground,
And all that Buddha seems to get, is a real bad tummy ache,
And you can't locate a wishbone, to have a chance to break,
And every finger becomes so stiff, that you just can't cross,
And you find the numbers, seven and eleven, bring you only loss,
When every ladybug becomes so sick, and appears surely to die,
And you search, but find no rainbows, to view up in the sky,
And finally, you must admit, horseshoes only work for fun,
Must it take all of this to know that's GOD's the ONE?

Go ahead and push on me,
Give it your very best.
Push me until I have to bend
In your crazy little test.

But know that I am flexible,
Cos' I've been bent before.
Just when you think I'll crumble,
I will bend a wee bit more.

You've finally met your match, life,
There's no pressure I can't take.
So go right ahead and push on me,
         I will bend...I will not break.

I will set the guiding tempo, the rhythm of each day,
And not by every meager wind, be up and blown away.
But hold fast to an anchor, secured in solid ground,
So when all the storms arrive, I won't be tossed around.
I'll just breathe in and out, shut my eyes if the need arise,
Open them when the fury passes, to brighter, sunny skies.
Shut out all of the chaos, that man breeds, and always try,
To dwell in that safe haven, that was made for you and I.
An a-ged oak waits on a hill, waits for us, or so it seems,
We planted it together, and it's growing in my dreams.

I love early mornings.
When the air is quiet
crisp and
still.
I always think about you.
And pretend that we are together,
sharing coffee,
waking slowly.
Wishing the sun
would stall
just on the horizon
for several hours...
So that our morning chat
could be prolonged.
We sit on the swing
in our robes and
slippers
just a while longer,
my head resting on your shoulder,
with my eyes closed,
feeling your chest vibrate when you talk.
Little peck kisses and
shared glances and
silly little grins.
I so love early mornings.
Early mornings with you.

I'd like to share a story,
A sad and tragic little tale,
About a silly, naive woman,
Who was so scared and frail.
Who finally found her anam cara.
Ah! But he lived so far away.
She vowed that she would meet him,
On a not too distant day.
But somewhere in the meantime,
She did meet another beau,
Who treated her so very well,
And a love of sorts did grow.
A love that offered comfort,
A safe place to lay her head,
And she began to wonder,
If she should stay with him instead.
But there was always a nagging,
A pulling , if you will,
And without her anam cara,
Her soul would not be still.
After so much time had passed,
She wrote to him to say,
"I really want to meet you now,"
"Could you come down my way?"
And she waited for many months,
But anam cara, he never replied,
She later learned, she'd waited too long,
Her anam cara had died.
The lesson of this fable friend:
Take a chance...and do not wait!
If you waste time, you just might find,
That you made your choice too late!

Will the nighttime greet me,
With more dreams of you?
Will my heart remind me of,
Our days that were so few?
Will my tears offer any solace,
Or just cause more to flow?
Will I ever find the reason,
Or accept I can not know?
Will time fade the memories,
Fond ones that we shared?
Will my soul ever get over,
The fact you never cared?

I suffer a certain sort of death,
With the loss of you and I,
The same as a falling star does,
After shooting across the sky.
Gone in a very short instant,
Disappearing from all view,
Unsure if it was really there,
The way that shadows do.
But the hole thats left behind,
Is infinite or so it seems,
And everything is jumbled,
Just like disturbing dreams.
Surrounded by so many,
Yet, still I'm the only one.
I just wasn't prepared for,
The setting of our sun.

I will re-teach myself the lesson,
Which I failed to learn again,
While shoving tiny fragments back,
Into where my faith had been.

And in proportion to your worthiness,
I'll offer a little piece of me,
Will you treasure or make shards of it,
I'll watch, and wait, and see.

For with ample time and a cunning gaze,
I'll know exactly what you lack,
If proven true, I'll give some more,
And if not, I'll take it back.

For you see, I'm a fierce protector of,
This gift I call my soul.
And unless you surrender yours to mine,
You'll never have the whole.

For I have an eye that misses none,
And a heart that's just as keen,
So be careful dear, while you discern,
What your loss of me would mean.

As if late, the mighty river rushes head on,
To an end that, it finds, is already gone.
Winding, impatient, carrying useless debris,
Cutting  a path as far as any eye can see.

Moved by a force that is all of it's own,
Recklessly moving towards the unknown.
With a passion that it can not explain,
A tributary veering off from the main.

And we, like the river, urge right on ahead,
So weary, yet rushing, until we are dead.
Picking up baggage for which we have no need,
Tossed about, powerless and drowning indeed.

Yet there is a shore on which we can stand.
Just walk in faith, the way it was planned.
But until we can quiet our own inner will,
We will run like that river, and never be still.

I need a hand to hold mine tight,
And a shoulder to rest my head.
I long for someone to kiss me goodnight,
And tuck me safely into bed.
Someone to whisper "I love you.",
And with tenderness stroke my hair,
Who lies awake just to look at me,
Someone who truly does care.
Someone I can snuggle up next to,
So I can listen to their heart,
Someone who I can hold right now,
Before I fall completely apart.

Where , oh where, just have you been?
I check everyday just to see.
If you found some inspiration,
That you wouldn't mind sharing with me.
The words, they used to come like rain,
Sometimes too quick to recall,
But lately, it's been such a struggle,
To write anything worthy at all.
And so I check for something of yours,
Which has always saved the day,
Could you help start a landslide friend,
So I could find something to say?

Of all the ornaments, on the crowded tree,
The one, by far, that means the most to me,
Is the one that reminds me of a true friend,
Who has filled my heart and helped it mend.
For when my days were troubled,
And I was feeling so very lost,
He stayed by my side, even closer,
And never once counted the cost.
And with his help I am now able,
To be myself once again,
And there is love in place of where,
An empty hole had been.
And He did it because he wanted to,
No motive that I can see,
For being someone who gave it all,
Gave it all... just for me.
Of all the ornaments, on the crowded tree,
The one, by far, that means the most to me,
Is the one that reminds me of a true friend,
Who has filled my heart and helped it mend.

Is it just coincidence,
That our paths crossed long ago?
So many others have entered here,
So many seem to come and go.

Tell me why you seem to stay,
And I just can't let go,
Is it because I stunted it?
Is it because I do not know...

Just what truly you are to me,
I'm so afraid to try and see,
Yet with every thought of never knowing,
Something dies inside of me.

I long to hear your genuine laugh,
And to see just how you smile,
And feel a certain thrill inside,
I haven't felt in quite a while.

So, selfishly I will make this plea,
"Please don't give up on me just yet."
Cos' I don't want to remember you as,
"The Greatest Love I Never Met."

There is a despair of sorts,
Of which no one can tell.
When a soul fails to breathe,
And dies to certain hell.
Elongated and underlived,
Monotonous, empty, vain.
Joyless, careless, hollow,
And filled with only pain.

The air was very frigid,
Early eve on a very cold night.
As I sat in the drivers' seat,
Waiting at a very long light.
And I heard a tap on the window,
Looked over and saw him there,
He was wearing broken glasses,
And had not combed his hair.
And I rolled it down just slightly,
And he said...do you mind If I stand?
Close to your car to feel its warmth,
And he had a few dollars in his hand.
Then he began to tell me about,
The local shelter where he did stay.
And how he worked day labor,
And of the church where he did pray.
He continued on to tell me that,
The shelter was not free,
And he needed 32 dollars,
To pay enough for his family.
He gave me the telephone number,
To the shelter and then his name,
But I never called, just gave him cash,
And I'm the only one to blame.
That later on that very night,
The man who I gave "aid".
Overdosed on crystal-****,
Of which I'm sure I paid.

When I'm in your arms, things are certain.
When your hand's in mine, I don't doubt.
But as soon as distance steps in between,
My soul just somehow feels "without".

And I can't seem to explain it.
How can a connection be real?
When it disappears so quickly,
Just because I can no longer feel..

Your breathe, so soft, upon my neck,
Your eyes, so deep, focused on me,
Your arms snaked about my waist,
Words whispered from lips , so lovingly.

So the only way I can feel happy,
The only way I feel "right" with you,
Is to stay in your presence forever,
And that just simply won't do.

I don't feel the rain anymore,
Neither the sun upon my face.
Everything is so muddled,
And nothing has it's place.

I don't feel the undeserved love,
That you give to help me heal.
I wound just like a wild beast,
And even this I can not feel.

And it's clear I am no better,
Then I was a few years ago.
I take things so very easily;
And just as easily let them go.

But I don't find any comfort,
In just what I have become,
I'm sure I'd hate indifference,
If I wasn't so **** numb.

I think I've had enough,
Enough of all the games,
Forgetting all the faces,
Forgetting all the names.
Moving to the next one,
The next one in the line,
Moving to the back again,
Because no place is mine.
Nothing ever seems to last,
Present is the same as past.
So, I think I've had enough,
No more flat land to climb,
I'd rather sit quite solitaire,
And play a game with time.

The day, it was just beautiful; the sun was shining bright,
Until I saw a photograph..... that turned my day to night.
And once again truth is missing, once again I am unsure,
And I wish I'd never seen it, so I'd be happy like before.
But the funny thing with truth? the funny thing is this...
It always finds the little things, the little things I miss.

She has eyes that see right through,
The heart that holds the bits of you,
The pieces that you now can't give,
With her goodbye, love ceased to live.
No genuine smile shows in your eyes,
Longing for her, while telling me lies,
Be true to yourself; be true to me,
Her face is the one that you wish to see,
Sitting right here, holding your hand,
But it's just me and I don't understand.
Just what is it that I don't possess,
Is it the way I laugh, the way I dress?
Don't lead me on, please don't pretend,
That I'm the one and there is no end,
I know that I'm being settled for,
And I just can't take it anymore,
You cry at night,.. I hear,.. I know,
But I'm hurting too, and I must go.

Write to me...write to me...
write to me, friend.
Before old time shadows
Start to descend.
Don't let them close me in
like they did before,
Please write your words
that mean much more.
Secret messages
that lure me to light.
That birth in me
despite dead of night.
Your words, your words,
please gift them again,
There's a scary shadow
where they have been.

You are my anam cara, my soul's friend.
Who knows me from beginning to end.
Your every word reaches out to me,
You see what the others can not see.
Who holds me close though far away,
And within your arms I hope to stay.


You're the warm slippers
I wear all the time,
The inspiration for almost
every rhyme,
The hot cup of cocoa,
that warms my hands,
The knowing look no one
else understands,
The old favorite song
I sing in my head,
The fluffy comforter
I have on my bed,
The view I see when
I'm on my swing,
The song that plays
when I can't sing,
The warmth on my face
from the great sun,
The quickened sleep
when the day is done,
The first one I want
to tell about my day,
The confident voice
when I just can't say.
The friendly hand
that calms my feet,
The reason my heart
still wants to beat.
The face I see sitting
there by me,
In dreams beneath
the poetry tree.
The one who reaches out
to break my fall,
Who hears every scream,
whisper, or call.


You are my anam cara, my soul's friend.
Who knows me from beginning to end.
Your every word reaches out to me,
You see what the others can not see.
Who holds me close though far away,
And within your arms I hope to stay.

Why doesn't GOD take all the pain,
That we feel so much of here,
And make it just a useless word,
Make it all just disappear?
And why doesn't GOD take sickness,
And all the ills of day to day,
Children's hospitals and chemo,
Make them all just go away?
Why didn't GOD make all men good,
And let not one man be poor,
And why can't we live in paradise,
The way they did before?
I know within my heart that GOD,
Can make all these things true,
But I'm not supposed to question,
Just what GOD will do.
With just my faith I will believe,
In the perfection of his plan,
For he knows every single thing,
In the heart of every man.

Do you see that little boy
Who is sitting over there?
The one with the blue eyes,
And the ***** blonde hair?
The one you walked right past,
On your way over to me?
He was holding up his new toy,
Just so you could see?
He tried to get your attention,
He had a quick story to tell,
But you moved away so quickly,
He tried to keep up but fell.
You see that incredible little boy,
Has been overlooked too long,
And I know he often wonders,
Just what he did so wrong.
So please take a second glance,
Try to see just what I see,
A precious special little boy,
Who means the world to me.

I can remember the pain of grieving,
And the release from shedding tears,
But lately I can't seem to shed them,
I am numb after all these years.
And oh! what I wouldn't give to feel,
Like I had something I couldn't lose,
Instead of always, easy come, easy go,
No matter which way I choose.
And I know that some may argue,
An even temperament is the best,
But oh! how I long to know passion,
Just the same as all the rest.
Just give me something to fight for,
Of which I can't find any doubt,
So that I may wage one hell of a war,
For something I can't live without.

I headed to the shoreline,
A little bucket in my hand,
And once it was completely filled,
I headed back to land.

And with my tiny shovel,
I dug myself a moat,
Then with a broken seashell,
Fashioned quite a boat.

Then I made four towers,
With a flag on every one,
And waited for them to harden,
Under the midday sun.

I'd built myself a castle,
How simple it had been,
Even though the waves did claim it,
Tomorrow I'll start again.

I sometimes often wonder,
How simple life would be,
If all I needed was a little bucket,
A shovel, sand, and sea.

The sunshine which I saw today,
Seemed a brighter shade than yesterday.
The sky was a much deeper blue,
Then I have ever recalled within my view.
The grass, at full attention, stood,
Much more rigid than I thought it could.
The clouds painted feathers white,
And together it all was a majestic sight.
And I just wanted to stand and shout!
GOD is real! How can you doubt?

There is a time for all to be undone.
Seasons change just like the wind.
But I've a keepsake from every one,
That I shared with my dear friend.

That spring, when everything was so new,
And our hearts were beating fast.
And Summer did reveal our hearts as true,
Yet through fall they did not last.

And etched upon my inner eye,
Is his face,...... with edges grey.
Memories shared by he and I,
In the seasons that didn't stay.

But one day soon, the winter will end,
And the sun will once again shine,
Upon the face of my very dear friend,
Who, for a season or two, was mine.

You will never bridge the chasm
Or know the greatest depth
Of an unleashed soul's sole passion
Nor find what gives it breath
It's fed by an unknown catalyst,
That urges onward total war,
And loses it's very own battles,
Battles it's lost before.
And though you start with armor,
And resolve in your facade,
You will only descend halfway,
Then retrace the steps you trod.
But do not feel disheartened,
For you are not the first who's tried,
And failed upon this journey,
Who has turned to run and hide.
And the soul discoverer, rest assured,
He will find no treasure bin,
Just an ugly face and a twisted mind,
And a broken heart within.

When all the church bells cease to toll,
And the ocean tides no longer roll,
When not one beast utters mere a sound,
And no compassion can be found,
When the marching drummer fails to play,
And no beacon remains to show the way,
When every breeze becomes right still,
And each soul relents to his Master's will,
When the whole of man stops in place,
And stares out into empty space,
When earth meets sky;  no in-between,
Will be the moment all truth is seen.