More beneath mould'ring sullen earth do sleep
Than move and breathe with calm and cheerful ease;
Mocking flowers drooping who muse and weep—
Sturdy oaks free of sadness and disease.

Unconscious of final approaching doom,
Last appointment at late or early hour;
Unmindful of eager awaiting tomb,
Blissful, never do they despair nor tire.

'Till gaiety darkens to doleful sigh.
At the end of ev'ry road laughs a grave,
Whilst cruel time triumphantly doth fly
Mocking sad flower and stalwart oak brave.


**~Hilda~

since I wept poems freely,
from rise to set,
every breeze, every minute, each bladed grass,
a creation-emotion overtaking

the residue is
every pen dry,
every pencil nubbed,
every free and white
piece of paper,
even all the napkins,
Picasso scribbled

but this one compelled to
rise and set,
before you placed
with a gratitude that
needs no explaining,
a poem,
first and knighted as

Camaraderie

a tired, benighted idea,
oft expressed,
that cannot be contained,
swelling up, chest burn bursting
and it's not yet 600am

but the sun demands
payment for admission to this
morning's performance,
which will never be rebroadcast

so in humility, I
offer up this scrap,
in hopes it earns me
one more show tomorrow
pleasing him,
by pleasing you

we write with many motives,
but this ticket is
for my friends here,
genuine camaraderie that is holy,
sourced from holy water,
"straight from the water"*
within our physical selfs

your arm unasked slung
over my shoulder,
your words my inspiration,
your demands, none,
other than give a listen

which is no demand,
but sweet sugar daily,
crazy stupid flooded
teary-eyed
through words care crafted,
I have found so many
gentle kind
that without hesitation,
I find myself blessing us all
by repeatedly uttering
Hallelujah!