In thy dreams, a world takes flight,
Where fantasies dance in the soft moonlight.
A realm where hopes and wishes run,
In the sweet embrace of dreams yet spun.

In the still of night, when stars align,
Thy dreams take shape, vivid and fine.
A canvas unfurls, a masterpiece born,
In the realm of dreams, where desires adorn.

In thy dreams, futures surely come,
Where visions bloom, where hearts succumb.
With every slumber, a tale unfurls,
In the whispers of dreams, where the heart swirls.

A world of enchantment, of pure delight,
Where imagination soars, taking flight.
In the ethereal realm where fantasies roam,
In thy dreams, destinies find their home.

Through the darkness that blankets the night,
In the theater of dreams, dreams take flight.
A realm of possibilities, where hopes become,
In thy dreams, a certainty to welcome.

So in the embrace of night's tender hum,
Let thy dreams blossom, let them become.
For in thy dreams, where dreams succumb,
Lies the promise of futures yet to come.

When love looked inside of me one day,
It found a soul, in disarray.
In gentle gaze, it saw the pain,
And sought to heal, to soothe the strain.

It peered through layers, deep and wide,
Where emotions and fears often hide.
With understanding, without a plea,
Love embraced what it could see.

It sifted through my darkest parts,
Unraveling knots in broken hearts.
In every crevice, in every fold,
Love sought to heal what time had told.

When love looked inside, it found a spark,
A tiny flame in the endless dark.
It fanned the embers, made them bright,
Banishing shadows with its gentle light.

Love whispered softly, "You're not alone,
I'm here with you, to make you whole."
In its gaze, I found the key,
Unlocking doors, setting me free.

So, when love looked inside of me,
It found a soul, longing to be free.
With tenderness, it lent its hand,
And helped me see, helped me stand.

You are my glass
of vintage wine
and your sweetness
quenches my thirst


You are my sustenance
the daily bread that
feeds my heart, mind,
and soul


You are my illumination
radiant and burning bright,
the enlightenment
that attracts me

No more can be said
now and forever
you are my sweetness,
my light, my daily bread

One calm summer night
I visited the city aquarium and
I noticed the sharks and the barracudas
Playing a lovely game of tennis
Yeah, the sharks and
The Barracudas are just
Sitting around eating
Strawberries and drinking tea
How could this be?
The great white shark called out, "the surf is up!" and
The speedy barracuda replied, "fifteen Luv!"
How could this be?
Suddenly, the sharks and the barracudas
Noticed me standing there, and
Standing on the other side
Well, they all agreed,
If you want to learn how to swim with
The sharks and the barracudas,
First, you must learn how to play the game!
Oh, what a lovely sport it is!
Are you from Essex?
Well Its so lovely there, this time of year.

One day a poem stood at my doorstep
and I let it come in to get warm and dry
we sat by the fireplace and had a chat

We laughed and shared stories between us,  
about yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and  
yes, it was delightful to get a chuckle or two.  

I picked up my old guitar,  
the poem dusted off the ancient fiddle,  
and we played sonatas and variations of Bach    

Then, we sat down at the kitchen table,  
nibbling on sweet delicious corn cobs and  
sinking our teeth into succulent roast pheasant.  

At last, we filled our wine goblets to the brim  
with vintage brandy, and we drank to our hearts content.  

A poem does not want to be left alone,  
so the next time you see a poem outside your door,  
please do me a favor, and let it in.

Yes, words are the magic elixir
embracing the soul,
and words turn objects into gold.

Do words beat like the wings of
a restless hummingbird,
while men plot
with sharp daggers
to capture it?

Words teach us valuable lessons because words know how to give and receive.

Words live through every hurt,
through every pain,
because of they
have no self-conscious fear
of flight

Do words know how to give and receive?

The answer is always yes

Dear Lord, how do I make  
a covenant with this poem?  
  
Does it want a fresh pair  
of wings to master the sky,  
to soar like an eagle, in
the heavens above?
  
If a poem speaks, should
it sings in the halls of
cathedrals, joining spirit
with flesh to make this
covenant?  
  
If a poem is planted as a
seed in my heart, should it
take root, growing strong and
vibrant, or, should it be ripe
and ready for harvest?  
  
So, let these spiritual words  
flow through a beating heart,  
a gentle hand and sacred pen.
Scribe to bare witness on paper,  
thus to make a covenant with thee.