Winter

I drew the shades to lessen the day
The glowing room from embers bright
A cold draft from behind the windows pane
So soft the snow amidst the trees
But this I have blocked

For naught, all is not well 
A mix of pragmatic emotion
Hidden from all light 
A slow dance in the shadows 
Here a day-dream, a wish, disease 
From winters dreary hand
Is constructed the eaves to the floors 
And that which dwells between 

A hush
I once found solace in solitude
When breaking from comfort 
And a step outside of peace 
I will no longer return 
What is this my empty space 
When heart does follow 
To leap from day to day
To find my own meaning
To write, to play 
A theatre all my own 

The Stranger, The Light

I woke to find a note left on my bedside. 
“My dearest, take this as your warning. Find your way. Let your guard down. Feel.”

The scribbled parchment did not give way to the author. A seemingly ambiguous message that held no real value. 

At dusk. A step from the pub and thoughts of the early morning encounter.  A muttered self-indulgence, “who am I?”. A creature of destiny, a child of a product, a faceless wanderer? 

“Take head. Do not fade in the day, find courage and strength. Stray from routine.”

The notes were found througout my loft. Ambiguous and dark. A lesson in patience could not be found. I’d much more assume these to be fragments too soon to be forgotten. 

I found ambivalence in the strangers pen. Nothing more than mere quagmire. Though days passed I began to long for the mysterious words. A connection grew between man and ink. A foe for a friend. 

In a quick end, a slip of conscience. An awakened state from beneath a bottle. A fountain pen in a drunkards hand. I found the last I’d think of, shrouded in forgotten hate. A lost light covered in apathy. A new way to see. 

One Waking Day

Want, is to take on each day with you. 
To find adventure and brave the unknown. 
There exists desire in sunshine and clouds. 
Simple rainy days and bold summer nights. 
It’s who we know in shadows and light. 
Within my dreams,
I end the day with you at my side. 

In Autumns Stride

The morning sun so brightly shone
Past curtains drawn in tight
A whisper of what the day would bring
The gentle lull of autumn air
Hear a decree of temperate fear
For wool and cotton do we change
Of pumpkin patches and ciders brew
Where fires glows to warm a room
The scent, lingers in the air
Blankets strewn about the den
Where family gathers near
To see the spoils of a day that’s spent
For what remains is to be shared
That, of homemade pumpkin pie

Lovely to Be

She wandered
With an elegance and grace that’s all her own
She strode about hands behind her back
Furrowed brow and no chance to bring a smile back
Done by now 
For the lack of attention that pity brings

Miles now
And days and weeks and months
These roads only lead so far
A steady hand to hold is all it takes
Lead and guide so fearlessly be
Bring her back from the edge of trees
Hold the stars up in your hands
And keep the moon on your back

She sees you this way 
You never had to ask
Close
Close your eyes 
And picture the world just the way she does 
Wonder and curiousity from someone so young 
So just be exactly what she needs
Wander no more my love 

The Blood of Lovers

I’ve got time

Time

Time to back away

Time to push you further

To keep on moving

Time to stop and watch you cry

I’ve got time 

Time

Time to rebuild bridges

Time to put out fires

I’ve got time to suture wounds 

All that I’ve done out of anger

I’ve got time 

Voyage of The MaidensCurse

Hold fast!
A wave could break the vessel
Old and forgotten 
Our ship remains strong
A crew of few to man the sails
At the helm
A visionary misunderstood
From Baltic to Pacific
A quest of age
From days to weeks
A brotherhood 
A bond
The cry is heard “Man overboard!” 
This is no accident he replies
He jumped to the waters to swim to shore
Here the crew dwindles 
Look to the North Star
Find your heading
For here a storm rages
And we must stay aboard
Together we are strong
Together we keep this ship afloat 

A new world
Discoveries of life beyond our ability
When land is not found
Mutiny and talks of treason
Selfish words from empty men
Through sleepless nights
The MaidensCurse
She creeks and groans
Above the sounds of plots and schemes
Of what men do when treasures found
No end in site
A wave too high
A broken vessel
Centuries past and yet to be found

Forté

The heavy door leads to a smokey room
A dim hall with a beat of its own
A new style of rhythm and blues
Jazz to swing through the night
Across the room a single table
Her blue eyes and her shade of lipstick
“Do you dance?”
Hands held on the dance floor
Hours pass when the band stops
Last call
Coats wrapped upon backs
Gentle rain just past the window
Church bells in the distance
This heavy door leads to something new

Summer Bird

Awaken now to a brilliant silence.
So quite is the world that does not wake
Alone to sit. Alone to think
A cup I hold to warm my soul 
A breeze at last to cool my face
This dawn does break for those who wait
A passing cloud to make it’s shape
The lone bird to find it’s place
A nest so quaint tucked beneath the eaves
I reflect upon this day that starts
And think of all the woes undone
I break the silence that I keep 
A simple tune upon my lips

Of Pines

A row of pines, stretching east to west. A planted fence between two fields. Once they grew as I did. Something of childhood dreams amongst the sapplings. Now tall and strong, shaped by the winds. So miles keeps us apart. The defeated efforts to see old growth. Now planted from seeds where my children will tend to these branches. Trimming before age takes over.