A step I took
just one at a time
within me I'd look
to despair I'd not succumb

my life is yet
an unwritten book
not to be lived in regret
the hardest task I stand to brook

perhaps we are really
only jagged landscapes
mired in pain
disclosing our truths
inside the caverns
of written words

My words are few

they dwell in parsimony

but my heart is true

would you but accept me?



Silent is my love--its very beauty

I would blemish --it won't do-

to describe even in sweetest poetry

here I am, blessed, prayerful.

Perhaps I was raised
to be a peasant
merchant;

fated to buy
faith in trade
of hope,

to purchase attention
in trade of fame,

and to avail love
in trade of happiness.

I am
theatre bred
I am
poet born
I will not tread lightly
I will blow my horn
I will make practice
of practice
Till every act is
that of mastery
I will steal history
for so long
that it will linger upon
me. For centuries

Life is a puzzle

              it's up to me

              not to make mine a muddle

Perhaps that is why
I have something called dry eye
All the tears were shed