until now
this did not exist
a thought
brought pen to paper
that I could not resist
until now
this did not exist
so, I have to find a reason
for this scribble
on a perfect ****** page
until now
this did not exist
perhaps it was always
SOMEWHERE
for this precise moment
to fill a gap between
my wife coming home
and the end of an afternoon
turning to evening
until now this did not exist
then it was gone
so much potential
never reached

Plywood braces windows,
palms rattle fronds against siding.
gutters spit as the wind climbs.

My grandfather on the phone,
his voice a flicker in the storm’s static.
The lot crowds, then scatters.

A ball, caked in sludge,
drifts into the gutter,
a dog leaping after.

It’s hard to tell laughter from siren,
shouts from wind, or hold his words
no matter how tight I press the receiver,

its plastic warm in my hand,
cord twisting at my wrist.
He calls because the Gulf is darkening,

because he knows the water climbs,
because I have spoken of moving west-
a desert- another gulf between myself and family,

closer to safety, farther from familiar.
Land ought to hold steady,
not wash out from under you,

he says, not telling me to stay,
not quite telling me to go.
As he speaks, the clearest sight

is the aluminum door straining,
blinds clattering like bones, then thunder-
a crack like plaster, like bone, its greyness

everywhere the air will go.
This beginning is weight-
pulling me west, to where

his universe bends uncertain.
In the pause between thunder
and his drawled breath,

not the words
but the weight
he meant me to carry.

the leafless tree branches.
clouds drift in the pale sky
and the deer leave footprints
in the snow

and all flowers fade,
so, throw the dead flowers
across my grave

and with time
winter's wounds will heal
so spring can follow
when the river sheds its skin of ice
and the deer footprints turn to mud

and the earth forgets the cold.
sunlight kisses, the flowers sigh,
tulips bruised red,
for-get-me nots whisper,
daffodils linger.

the sunrise whispers anew
and trembling in sunlight
the green leaves wave

as the wind dances with newborn flowers
that for tell of the Grace.

O, my wild garden.

Just one summer               like no other
                        that is what it was !
You and I across the field
                          playing like wild children
          in the playground of my heart !
Here and there, everywhere
                    we were
                            angels soaring o'er daises
     unplucked*                           breathing *
Rain or shine, we were always together
                       drenched in sunlight we were poetry  
                                          As we lay softly on the
                         summer grass
the heady scent of flowers clothed us,  
                                    even rain could not wash away
                    the inhale of our innocence,  
It was a summer               like no other
the summer      when                      we first met ,

middle of the night
started clapping and jumping
as mosquitoes hum.
19/9/2025

Voice cracks,
When I feel overwhelmed.
Like a mental attack,
With no hope to defend myself.

Voice cracks,
When I feel nervous,
Because I have a presentation,
And I can’t seem to speak,
And my words slur.

If I were lying on my deathbed,
I ponder,
Would I remember,
When I wondered,
If I would remember,
When I was younger,
And my voice cracked?

Voice cracks,
When I feel anxious,
Wondering if I’m worth it.
Since it feels like I misuse the gifts I’m given.

Voice cracks,
When I feel passionate,
Doesn’t happen often,
But when it does, I struggle to let go.
Even when it hurts my soul,
And I wonder why I didn’t let go.

If I were lying on my deathbed,
Would this matter?
Would I regret,
Not making sure that it mattered?
Would I pray for a chance to turn back the clock,
Back to the days, when all of my worrying came,
From whether or not my voice cracks?

Voice cracks,
When I feel overwhelmed,
And I wonder,
Why do I do this to myself?
My biggest critic,
My greatest asset,
My only friend who’s guaranteed to me till the end.

Voice cracks,
When things just seem a bit too much,
And I want to hide away,
To return another day.

If I were lying on my deathbed,
Would I be satisfied,
That I lived my life,
Instead of watching it pass by?
Though people came and went,
Faces and names smudged by time.
Did I do what I wanted to do?
Or did I disappoint you?
It wouldn’t matter then.
I think I’d find,
Myself longing to go back,
To the times,
Where all I had to worry about,
Were my voice cracks.

I accept it.
You’re doing everything
to dim my image,
to rise above,
to play the victim,
to show the world
how much you suffered,
how cruel I must have been.

As if I, too,
hadn’t wept,
hadn’t begged,
hadn’t broken
and rebuilt myself
just to make us work—
two puzzle pieces
that never truly fit.

It seems you need this
more than I do.
Some people must turn you
into the villain
so they can crown themselves
the hero of their own lives.

So I accept it.
I will be
the villain of our story.

my love is mine all mine.
nothing in this world is mine for free but my love mine all mine.
nothing in this world belongs to me but my love mine all mine.
my lover is mine and i won't share