He says he holds no Wisdom.
That his cup is dry,
though he feels like a man drowning.
Why then do we flock to his feet?
So many hungry birds
pecking at the bits of poetry
which fall from his Soul.

She used to wield her power,
turning every mans head,
believing in her own whims.
Now she walks the street,
anonymous.
Watching younger women
and men's foolish faces
on craning rubber necks.
She is laughing merrily
in her Wisdom

I sew the seams of my life together.
The fingers of my Heart
busily stitching
the patterns of my Mind.
A wondrous patchwork quilt.
It lays upon me like a mantel
with a bridal train billowing along
in the wild Cosmic Wind.
A garment not quite complete.

You brought me tiny fishes
wrapped in a twist of waxed paper.
How could you know
I craved the taste of salt on my lips
in this dry time of summer.

For hours she sits,
the Poetess,
alone in her dreamy world.
Weaving a tapestry
of consciousness.
Ink upon paper,
curling clusters of words, waiting
to be deciphered
by a wandering kindred soul.

Caught on her
Love line
he flys through the air.

That big fish
had never known
the sky so blue.

Gasping on the deck
of her little ship
he sees the face of Death.

She loosens the hook
and kicks him back
to the Sea.

She wonders,
will he forget his desire
to bite that bait?

To see that
pure blue sky
once more?

She lifts the rod
and casts her lure
again.

Blessings

The Blessings come
in the curve of your words,
like a tangle of twigs
that weave a nest
around my heart.

The Blessings come
with the stroke
of his hand on my skin,
stoking the fire
of our home.

The Blessings come
with the thought of our friend,
so far away,
in a land stripped bare
with only Blessings
to drive him forward.

The Blessings come
To fill the hollow of my Soul
with Love.