Iron and coal fused into a steel sword
torn from the comforts of an idle home
Against both will and wish into the forge

Mere foot to pedal unshackles the horde
onto that which was ****** into the dome
Iron and coal fused into a steel sword

Crude earth melts into an effulgent form
that once cooled will become harder than stone
Against both will and wish into the forge

Burning is sequestered by drowning boards
that go unnoticed but for hissing moan
Iron and coal fused into a steel sword

New pain begins despite what came before
anvil and hammer fashion the unknown
Against both will and wish into the forge

Those who endure will still need to be honed,
to be, of their own soul, the highest lord.
Iron and coal fused into a steel sword,
against both will and wish into the forge

All waves

turn to smooth waters

eventually

Tossed and upended
Yet endured
Ambigram

I’m on the verge of a dream
Heaven send
So serene
A glimmer of hope, a ray of sun gleam
My heart lights up, my eyes beam
It’s all to much to hope for
Doubt settles in
lock the door
I’ve been kicked to the floor enough times to never be sure
My hearts too sore
Happy endings? Ha! Folk lore...
But what if?
What if? WHAT IF?!
What if it breaks us the way it has every time before
Shatters our very core
Leaves us the broken look Mum always wore
You don’t know that!
It could be so good
Two puzzle pieces carved from the same piece of wood!
A picture of love no falsehood
Just us and him, a verandah and a bottle of Jim
What could be? What should be?
COULD, WOULD, SHOULD?!
How naive...
The best thing to do is let it be..
How can’t you see?
Why reach for the same rose with thorns like horns
So eager to bite
Dripping blood from your last fight
And still your dumb hopeful mouth utters words like might?

Stories of burning in the sun
fizzle out after a couple generations
Stories of salt filling our lungs
will outlast many civilizations

The sun burns quickly
like a brief moment of excitement
that wanes away while we search for
the next blazing hit

The sea pummels slowly
like a life of enduring and remiss
beating you down day after day wholly
until you sink into the abyss

Silence is a broken  man's curse
  He would rather hear voices
than be surrounded with a blank noise
   feasting on every memory
   he succumbs to a deep slumber
        being drowned by his thoughts
                   shackled by pain
                        not hearing anything
         but only a soft ring on his ears
             and a shattering heart
                            to endure

My mother grew up poor and strong,
Wild and kind,
Unsteady and prime.
Black curls and brick house,
Stealing for her supper.

My mother can push and fight,
Claw and brawl,
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She stands upon walls,
Falls,
then finds her footing.
Because my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

At times she's insecure and unsure,
Unknowing that
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She pushes, bows, cares and bares,
She can endure all things, conquer all things and renew all things,
For my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing