Your battle began, long before I was born,
in the trenches of that far-off war,
with your innocence lost, or rather exchanged,
for the sights filled with tanks and gore.

The price that you paid was too much for the role,
of a soldier, with others you bore,
the scars on your hearts, and wounds cut in your souls,  
masked only by bronze stars that you wore.

The boy who left home, you have never returned,
for you gave so much more than you had.
And the wounds only healed, at the end of that life,
with the dying breath of my dad.

Powder blue, soft upon the sheet,
brushed upon the cheek.
A sad tint of sky, of ocean,
a quiet bit of childhood,
colored upon my memories.

Our heart, is offered up,
as a sacrifice to love,
like a ****** lamb
on its way to slaughter.

When love takes its leave,
for whatever reason fate may have,
it always steals a bit,
of that beating heart.

The pain of love departed,
is the price we pay,
for loving deeply,
and completely.

I chanced to hear you in my youth,
through songs and mystic fairytales,
with promises of happiness,
and perfect love that never fails.

When hints of love began to stir,
within this youthful heart of mine,
you cast your spell upon my soul,
and I like others fell in line.

But this heart became your plaything,
love rejecting yet again.
Never seeing I was but a fool,
when dealing with the world of men.

Now, filled with a host of cracks and scars,
I find this heart of mine has died,
and when I hear your tune begin,
I hold onto my heart and hide.

Oh, so bitter disenchanted love,
mocking me throughout the years,
I turn my back to you again,
and sit alone within my fears.

This silence, so loudly it weeps,
of thoughts, lonely and isolating,
that surround, engulfing me,
within my ancient past.

This silence, so loudly it whispers,
enveloping me so completely,
within its protection,
wrapping me in ethereal healing.

This silence, so loudly it speaks,
within the steps I walk,
upon this empty beach,
listening at last to its mystical message.

This silence, so loudly it sings,
with each passing wave ,
drumming gratefulness for the day,
and chanting above mankind.

This silence, so majestic it paints,
each sunrise and sunset,
yearning to surpass yesterday’s,
with stunning celestial hues.

This silence, so loudly it beats within,
as I make it my own,
quieting my soul,
I search beyond.

The child that you are,
living in an old man’s shell,
grabbing at glory,
while clinging to your tin crown.

Thumbing your nose,
at the good and noble,
you waste the voice given you,
as you sail into infamy.

Downy seed tops of milky white,
floating on the wind.

Memories of childhood,
blown away in single a breath.

The raggedy girl of childhood,
lived across a field of swaying grass.
Little tomboys finding ourselves,
running the summer down.

Days filled with splashing in creeks,
and catching bugs in our clasped hands.
Shinnying up trees in the heat,
drinking Kool-aid, our afternoon treat.

Wringing as much as we could,
from this time of innocence,
we struggled as children do,
to make sweet summer memories.

Outside my window, you howl through the pines,
like a dog moaning deep in the night.
Through the cracks in my window, you speak to me,
with a whistle of Arctic wind, squealing with delight.

White envelopes the landscape, blanketing all,
blinding those who venture into this wilderness.
Falling snowflakes encircle lumps of cars,
buried beneath this winter wonderland of ice.

The frosty wind slaps my face, with a stinging pain,
and like a robber creeping beneath my clothing,
you steal the warmth from inside.
Bracing against the wind, I head into the blizzard’s bite.

Do you really know about the me I’ve hid inside?
I’m not the girl who I once was, I’ve grown at last to rise,
above the world where I once stood, alone, all by myself,
masked in my own protection, setting “me” up on the shelf.

Do you know that I can whistle, just like other boys,
and climbed to distant mountain tops, to hike past all the noise.
No one knows the me who fought throughout the early years,
a woman now, who raged through life and fought to hide my fears.

Who really knows the me inside? No one, I still believe,
I’m much more than that little girl, who fought hard to be me.
I took that road least taken, ‘fore I heard a quiet call,
to be a woman understood, by one most important of all.

With loving hearts that cradle me,
and soothe my aching mind,
you’ve given me the strength I need,
to leave the past behind.

These wings I’ve grown are far beyond,
what I could ‘er foresee,
allowing me to soar beyond,
my past, both strong and free.

These broken wings are healing still,
and few can keep me down,
for deep within this soaring soul,
are journeys where I’m bound.

On this, a day of infamy,
where most recall wherein they stood,
when breaking news destroyed our world,
and left us shaken to our soul.

We held our breath and watched in fear,
while battling to hold back tears.
For none believed the images
we saw that afternoon.

Now three years past, we still can see,
the remnants of that awful day,
and feel it ripple through our land,
while still we bind our bleeding wound.

Hold fast to our integrity and cling,
to what our founders built,
fight on for what we know is right,
and honor those with thoughtful vote.

“Cry the moon”, I heard her say,
to me this blighted, desolate day,
when time is short and life is old,
when hearts and feelings all run cold.

“Cry the moon”, I heard him say,
our world still stands in disarray.
Who’ll carry you ‘till morning light
and keep you safe throughout the night?

“Cry the moon”, the nations cried,
as thousands more laid down to die,
amidst the bombs and choking tears,
of hate that lasts throughout the years.

“Cry the moon”, the children cried,
and raised their palms to heaven wide,
they pled with God in skies above
to fill our world instead with love.

“Cry the moon”, the heavens played,
a hopeful hymn for those afraid.
When nightly news reports the cries,
and moonshine sweeps across the skies.

“Cry the moon”, the whole world cried,
despite the many who have died.
For we are still one family,
of multicolored ancestry.

So cry the world so all may hear
the plea to make hate disappear,
and make this Earth a better place
where all its people will be safe.

In winter when monsters grow;
when cold and desolation rule,
muddied snow and gray skies
feed the shadows in my mind.

Crawling out of the darkness,
goblins weigh on my heart,
like the parasite they are,
******* the joy from life.

In winter, when monsters grow,
when frost imprisons me,
choking the light from the world,
and feeding the misery within.

Depression, the monster of winter,
crawls into the confines of my being,
and fills me with sadness,
in this cold northern climate.

So honest is a puppy’s love,
kisses so tender and sweet,
a love that has no agenda,
except to be loved.

You burst with excitement,
when I come to call,
greeting me with your dance,
and springing into my arms.

As you curl up on my lap,
you sigh and look up briefly,
before snuggling in,
to dream your puppy dreams.

As I’ve raced through life,
amidst the jungle of our world,
I’ve found a peaceful corner
to listen for your whisper.

I see you in the canopy of leaves
and grasses that wave in the wind;
in the depth of azure seas,
and the reawakened spring creek.

The world of life hums along,
with afternoon shadows sharing in your design.
Nature quietly sings your song,
inviting me to join along.

By a crackling fire, they stood,
whispering promises,
in a cream-white dress and lace,
a bouquet of flowers nearby.

Gazing into the other’s eyes,
they recited their love troths,
and began their adventure,
with a simple “I do".

Along this springtime path I tread,
as Earth awakens from its slumber.
Buttercups glint in the sun’s first light,
while dew rolls off their waxy gold.

Spring-beauty line my morning walk,
along with orchid splendor of violets.
Jack in the pulpit collects its chaliced dew,
beside shooting stars fallen to the ground.

Horsetail reeds, segmented and green,
in tawny conical hats,
and trilliums with triads of snow-white petals,
encircling golden throats.

Smells of earth and green unite,
in silence of the woods deep.
Streams filled with new life held in their *****,
awaiting birth in the warmth of spring.

The first snow of winter, a most magical time,
when soft, gentle flakes float down from the sky.
They cover the sidewalks with light fluffy snow,
and light on one’s lashes and tickle one’s nose.

When Jack Frost bids eager young children to play,
in the season’s first snowfall, there can be no delay.
For the snowmen are calling, and sleds line the hills,
entreating the little ones, come get your fill.

The air becomes silent, in whiteness surrounds,
while a blanket of frostiness covers the ground.
And sun gleams on snowflakes that light up the sky,
bringing joy to the hearts of each passersby.

In the darkness of night, the quiet still grows,
and each flake brings a peace that the season bestows.
The moon glow reflects off the country gone white,
now heralds a season of wintery delight.

The snow falls silent,
on this cold, crisp winter’s day,
lightly dancing on the wind,
inviting me to join in its ballet of ice.

Enchanted by its frozen magic,
as it shimmers and winks at me,
it’s magic works its spell,
and I join in the dance.

She whispers to me,
on the brisk morning breeze,
in the flowers of spring,
and the leaves on the trees.

Wrapping me in her arms,
when I’m troubled and scared,
reassuring and calm,
like the warmth of the air.

She oft holds my hand,
when we trek winter’s cold,
and she whispers to me,
“You are never alone”.

Though you left long ago,
your're not far from my side,
a mom and her daughter,
whose love never dies.

Autumn up north is upon us again,
with sharp contrasts and fallen leaves,
squirrels and chipmunks scurry about,
preparing for the winter snow.

Days of polished azure skies,
backdrop to sugar maples
on fire in the colors of change:
burnt oranges, crimson reds, and golds.

Leaves twist and twirl in the air
on their way to their winter rest,
crunching and scratching
on sidewalks before me.

The shrill caw, caw, caws of blue jays,
cut through the thin morning air,
heralding the oncoming cold,
with sharp gusts that sting the cheeks.

The scents of autumn so familiar,
musty and crisp, inviting and blustery,
envelop me in memories of years past,
like a familiar friend calling me out to play.

My heart aches for what you once were.
Memories of unrivaled wilderness,
pristine and unique,
burned into my memory.

You were once my home:
a shining beacon of light in my life.
But you’ve passed with my youth,
like so many memories, eroded by time.

Yet, did I ever know you at all?
gazing at you through ****** eyes,
with a freshness of a love unknown.
Were you ever there, oh Hiraeth of Oz?

The wood beacons me with quiet whispers,
whistling through leaves and branches bare.
Songs of ancient, enchanted trees
and spirits dancing in joyous delight.

A low moan in the night implores me,
inviting me deep into its glade,
to witness heaven’s masterwork
in awakening stars that light my way.

I feel the spirits, amidst the twilight’s mist,
embracing me, welcoming me.
My child dances joyously within
as I find my way back home.

Tiny petals, like flakes of snow
brush lightly against my cheek
Like a lover’s caress you kiss
my winter white skin.

Petals dance to the ground,
with each breath of wind,
swirling in elegant pirouettes,
heralding spring in newness of life.

Standing amidst the other gums,
in a land red orange with age,
you reach out your gnarled limbs,
outstretched to azure blue.

Gray, smooth bark belies your age,
your title, hard won among the saplings.
Through years of draught and culling fires,
you stood your ground.

In silence absolute, we drifted,
on the evening current,
beneath the hazy full moon
of a December sky.

Floating on night breezes,
our spirits awed, amazed.
Rock walls pulsating with life.
in a chorus of light.

Cliffs towering above,
draped in nature’s Christmas lights,
winking in turquoise and white,
as we passed beneath.

Entranced by this purity of creation,
guided by the river’s strength.
This magical night, so perfect and surreal
remains in breathless memory of natures Christmas lights.

You died, slipping into my memory like the ghost you were.
I held you high on a pedestal, above the winds of change.
But time caught up to the friend you once were,
and you fell too far for me to catch.

Thoughts of what could be;
tomorrow’s possibilities
cut short by cruel destiny.

From halls of learning
ghosts of students past cry
through voices left behind
and rise up against the hate.

A voice crying out against oppression
could not be silenced.
The bullet felt, only strengthened resolve,
for those longing to be educated.

She called out from across the earth
to those on a dying world
wake, wake blind world:
wake to save yourself.

Beauty and strength roll off her tongue
breaking the haze that blinds us,
calling all to stand up and be brave enough.
Youth spoke, and her name was hope.

Rolling landscape
beneath soft quiet stillness waits,
as still, petite flakes
waft upon the breath of winter.

It’s bitter air
bites at my cheeks and nose,
sharply, waking me
to a day washed clean in white.

Reverently embracing
the solitude of morning light,
I revel in the crispness
of fresh new winter hope.

Paint me a picture,
I heard the world cry,
and give me the wings
from this madness I'll fly.

Our hearts have been squeezed
to their limit I fear,
and the pain we all share
has been found in our tears.

But the deep winter sun
has burst forth on this day,
giving hope to the hopeless
and warms sorrow’s prey.

It’s stark sparkling light
atop snow tops it dances,
dusting glitter on snowbanks
like diamonds it flashes.

Across fluffy drifts
with impressionist hues,
brings to mind sandy beaches
of Caribbean dunes.

So dance if you can
for this day will soon pass,
let your mind find its picture
‘til you find peace at last.

The heavens sing
its winter song,
through crystal ice
in snowflake form.

With starlight hues,
across the sky,
in awe we watch
parhelion’s array.

Beneath this world where life was birthed,
is painted in awesome mystery;
Eden-like beauty fills its silent world
and creation beyond imagining.

Shimmery scales flash before my eyes
in the quiet of the afternoon sun,
as blue tangs dart about in unison
in the turquoise of the shallow seas.

A world pulsing with life,
sparkling with newness every day,
awaiting us to learn its secrets,
within the school of the seas.

I reached to catch my dreams
as they teased me in my sleep;
foreign lands beyond my grasp,
and acceptance to be me.

There were many times I wished
I could just give up this fight,
days of solitude and grief,
fighting just to stay alive.

With my eyes fixed on my goal,
I was blind to gifts around,
and the changes from within,
came to me without a sound.

Now I stand among my gifts,
with the lessons life taught me
and thank the heavens for the pain,
that caught these dreams for me.

When asked what I wish for, for those coming after me;
I reply, a sweeter passage, for those longing to be free.
I wish for freedom from without and wars that rage within,
and for courage with to find a voice in this world we live in.

My hope for a tomorrow lies within a better day;
a day when people are not hungry, and when skin does not betray.
I ask for kind compassion for those lesser in this world,
and a greater understanding from those of privileged from birth.

I’d pray for bullies banished, for their souls to fully see,
that the hate they are creating, is no place I’d wish to be.
I ask for leaders and for kings, remember where you’re from,
and be a shepherd for your flock, not fleece your lesser sons.

I’d ask religions of this world to live in love and peace,
and live according to their faith and that violence decrease.
I’d ask that all would come to know the joy we will receive,
when we treat all men like brothers and all women equally.

The last thing I would want for them is life without the pain,
of fearing what tomorrow brings within this pouring rain;
a life of bright tomorrows, without worry or hopeless fear,
and I will go in peace, if asked, behind my grateful tears.

The mundane day to day never spoke much to me,
with its voice, foreign, speaking in a language unknown.
It slept upon my porch and knocked at my bolted door,
but I swept it away in the morning with each dream I dreamt.

Dreams have carried me to far off lands,
reminding me to reach beyond what I knew,
and bade me to break free from the shackles of life;
to heed their vision as they beckoned on the wind.

Many times I’ve risked it all and left what I knew behind
to follow my heart, beyond the safety of my world,
each time I aspired to be more than I believed I could be
and run with the wind and risk to be free.

Once I snorkeled reefs so grand they made me gasp in silent awe,
their brilliant world painted with the hues of the seas,
Red and violet fans waved as fishes flitted beyond my touch,
while I passed their world from overhead.

Long ago I delighted in pristine and surreal seas of life;
coral fish and anemone, the sergeant majors and angels.
Their colors still vivid in my dreams, they flash by in prison suits
only in my memories now.

Long ago I swam the seas and witnessed sights beyond my realm;
the giant clams and tiny squid, with schools of fish all hues below.
But now I see a world of grey, devoid of color I once knew,
a sad lament for the great reefs.

Long ago, but just a breath, I swam amidst beauty few will know,
but now I grieve its passing and pray that soon we’ll see,
the future of our reefs, washed gray by human negligence,
as we disregard our world.

When I was young, I had no voice,
no wings with which to find my dreams;
to soar above my shackled youth,
to find what lay beyond my chains.

Ever hungry for more, I ached to share
my art and skills, what joy I’d found,
but I perceived too few who shared
what grew within my struggling.

But through life’s growing pains and trials,
a chrysalis began to form,
and life inside transformed to bless,
and free me from my earth bound state.

Now fully formed and freed from chains,
I spread my wings and take to flight,
and soar to heights I’d never dreamed,
inside my life without my wings.

You whisper your love song tenderly
upon the early morning breeze.
You tease me awake, as the wind
plays her melody through my open window

Tiny prisms of light above my head
perform their morning ballet on the ceiling
each reflected from shards of painted glass
that harmonize on the wind.

This hymn of childhood memories;
mornings of endless possibilities;
each melody a reminder of beauty
each day sings to us on the wind.

A lone leaf floats down on the breeze beside my bench
as the wind whispers an autumn song to all who listen.
Geese overhead answer in their throated honk in flight
as they herald the coming of an early frost.

Red-orange drip from maples and all of autumn hums
as grey squirrels and chipmunks scurry away,
cheeks bulging with acorns and other treats
to bury inside their hideaways.

Fall, so vibrant and bright, with contrasting hues,
beauty embraces me in this garden of fall delight.
I pull my jacket close in its sharp crispness.
as I savor this moment of peaceful bliss.

I sit beside your beloved pond,
filled with waterlilies of magenta and white,
painted on the water’s surface,
while dragonflies flit about its glassy face.

I walk the paths you gifted us;
your voice speaks to me within the trees
as you sing your great love song,
within this painted land and garden blooms.

Amidst the midday sun, stinging hot upon my neck,
I find shade beneath your willows,
as I gaze through tears of gratefulness,
at the quiet beauty you left behind.

Upon this ship, tall, bound for life,
surrounded by the boundless sea,
its water-soaked and sun-scorched deck,
beneath my feet forever be.

I’ve set the main sail, helm I take
and with my strength of steel resolve
to let you guide me through the deep
directed on this unknown course.

You’ve guided me to sunlit shoals,
set anchor when the wild winds blew,
and steered me to a harbor calm
when all about me cyclones churned.

Although you’ve aged and changed without,
your spirit strong within has stayed,
and I will cleave to my tall ship,
as I navigate life’s setting sun.

We’ve left the safe behind us now,
and crossed the flood to evil’s shore,
building our homes within its briars
and lies that have ensnared us all.

We’ve ransomed our souls for our desires;
it’s blackness branded on our hearts,
blinding us to wisdom and agape love,
too eager, we bargain away tomorrow.

While truth and decency have been abandoned,
as we give away the ground we’ve gained,
many hide behind masks of their own making,
refusing to watch while history replays.

Faced with blackened hearts and minds,
that few can truly comprehend,
we watch its blood red currents consume,
as we stand upon Dante’s river shores.

The mighty sea, majestic rolls,
its strength beyond our mortal realm,
within that awesome, mystery,
the fearsome breath of life still swims.

While navy seas beneath me thrive,
and beckon to the wild in me.
Their furled waves hit strong and true,
and buffet while their cyclones rage.

And with their true majestic strength,
which is the sea, its power released,
rolls deep and awesome under foot
and I, in fearless awe, abide.

Twas yesterday I caught a glimpse: a monarch in our coldest month,
when winds of blizzards grey the snow around.
Its wing fluttered by my door alighting on my window pane
as if to say I bring you peace for winter will soon be gone.

I hurried to see its hues, and thought of warmer months of June
when frost was banished from our souls and green of life had sprung anew.
But as I took a second glance the image faded just as fast, and left instead
was one dead leaf that caught the evening winter moonshine full.

But still this image in my mind, persists; for bleak days winter brings,
for something dead can bring us hope with what was left.
So now I look for hidden cues, reminding me of strength within,
and let the fire of Monarch wings bring strength to help me fly again.

The world speeds past eyes unseen,
as if through empty window panes,
but I have taken time to see,
through this my camera’s lens.

The changing colors of the tree,
when autumn tips its leaves with orange;
the beauty of the shallow seas,
and majesty of the world within.

In cityscapes of the world around;
of Italy’s colossal Roman ruins,
upon each painting found on walls
of museums and hallowed halls.

I’ve captured these for aged self,
and fill my empty window panes with
proof to view a life that’s full.
recalling those sweet memories.

Amidst a closet of memories you find me,
in your simple orange shell with hidden hues within.
Your well-worn watercolors, reverent seeds of future art,
precious keepsakes of your memory still remains.

The magic art you housed brought light to early days
and life to the grayness of the cultureless country;
days of purposelessness and aimlessness, without end;
countless days of sheltering against nature, you painted my life with hope.

From first we met, I knew you forever;
your soft, sad chocolate eyes dancing with mischief,
your hands, moving to the ballet of a silent flute,
and your spirit singing in harmony with mine.

I’ve loved you more than words could express;
from a lifetime away, as from a distant planet,
your spirit gently washing against my shore,
speaking to me while I live life alone.

I’ve loved you most, throughout this dream of life,
though our walkabout was a lifetime apart,
I’ve heard you calling in the wind, the trees,
and always in my heart, urging me to come home.

Your early morning chorus echoes within my distant memory;
the raucous call of the kookaburra wakes the bush with each daybreak,
the ting of the bellbird echo as the magpies play on their pipes.
The harmony of life in the bush became my lover.

I long for the smell of your gum trees on the fresh morning breeze;
a cuppa in hand, I soak in the dappled landscape,
while the sun goes walkabout through the bush,
reflecting like diamonds dancing on the morning dew.