There lies a place,
tucked within the smallest crevice
where dreams come to play in the deep of night.
We linger and whisper to the stars
our tiny secrets of the heart
for shouting aloud to hear my now
was never the way of the skies.
I lay below the field of wonder
and quench my heart of love found high,
in the name of all,
I know the truth will conspire
to witness the falling of miracles.
For in the space between here and now
there is a blip of sound that can be heard,
from the universe that always hears
the faintest whisper of a feather falling,
it holds us in the warm embrace
and shelters the soul
in the arms of clouds,
and delivers with a gentle nudge,
the strength to carry us along.
Still flying high on the excitement of the book release and tomorrow the ebook will release on Amazon. For those who need the link, here you go my friends ❤
We travel the distance,
catching the tail of the wind
that spirals through the wilderness
on our way through unchartered lands,
we find ourselves as the journey unfolds,
and so much more than we ever thought
follows us through to new days waiting,
We become whole and complete.
Good morning my friends.
I’ve recently been quite MIA from the poetry world
as I pursued the act of writing a full fiction novel.
What a whirlwind experience it has been,
and I am proud and happy as the dream has been fulfilled.
On Sunday, my work of fiction ”Tales From The Thrift” was released on Amazon. it clocks in at 293 pages and it’s a story that pretty much like my poetry, wrote itself.
It was a labor of love that began in March and I’m already letting the wheels turn on the sequel. Thank you for being patient as I dipped my toes in the water with the publishing world. I see many more books in my future, what a thrill and experience that allowed growth to this poets mind.
the flick of a mote drifting
into the nebula of a lost thought
and I sit aware,
so very conscious of the relevance
of time passing in those moments.
Water turns muddy
the passages between where it flows
coagulated and slow like a mind weary
and I scoop and drop by drop try
like rain adding just a bit more to loosen
and allow the dam to burst,
letting the rushing stream become,
yet it stands thick like molasses
cooling in the midnight hour
still never brought to its glory,
to run free and moving swift
so it lay silent
beneath a sun so far away.
Muddled memory reawakened
as the energy moves in reverse,
headlights in the distance passing
and the wind waiting to turn balmy,
we are left in this atmosphere of silence,
cooled and chilled by March that lingers
and in the darkness of night,
the jasmine calls to be honored
beneath a sliver of light,
there is a weight
heavy and cloying reaching out
and tickles the memory of what is now lost,
the empty spaces between space
where laughter sat,
she blooms suddenly after these years as if to say,