Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Far from powerless

It's less this lack
than finding ways
to share what warmth we have
to bring some light with words
to watch the stars, to read a book
and finding we are
far from powerless
even in this dead of blackout.

This is a very late entry for Brendan's weekend prompt at toads that I also link up at Tuesday platform.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Louder than silence

not much was said
before we parted ways —
yet the echo
of your teaspoon stirring
still wake me up at night

Linked to Open Platform at toads

Tuesday, June 20, 2017


Poetry is trying
  just like lying
  relates to love
it's often black
and sometimes lack
but minor keys.
Let it burn you,
   like her letters,
but save the ash

Linked to Tuesday Platform at toads

Monday, June 12, 2017

Not yet driftwood really

I’m both driftwood and
an acorn.
and potential.

If only I could
I might catch the sky,
stretch and oak myself.
Instead I willow
bending way
not knowing how

       to grow.

For Magaly's prompt at toads

Tuesday, May 30, 2017


is a pockmarked chin,
the dented delftware,
or a greasy fingerprint
       in a book unread.

is a day between,
the sickle moon
and lukewarm tea 
       shared with friends.

Perfection is what was
        and is.

Linked to Toads

Monday, May 22, 2017

Close to midnight

it’s midnight… 
sound of nought
but crawl of claws
on gravel 
muted   far    away

laboured breath
from rotting jaws

heartbeats racing
   twisted bedsheets
wet with sweat
    a clock
strikes      twelve

and moonbeamed
from my throat 

howls for blood

Linked to dVerse Quadrille with Victoria

Tuesday, May 16, 2017


Hunger is less 
for the pea-
nut butter sandwich

her lipsticked lips
then sips 
of sense-
      less passion

Linked to Open Platform at toads

Saturday, May 6, 2017


his thirst 
is not
from lack 

but greed

that's why
he fences
the well

and watches
the desert

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Tan Tenga - Paulownia

from the paulownia
without a breath of wind 

falling leaves              
© Nozawa Boncho

crying for our memory
loss of secret tryst        © Myself

Linked to Carpe Diem