poem of the day December 31


"What good are eyes

if all you see is the delusion

in a persons soul"

The truth watcher said

while collecting tickets

for the masquerade ball

poem of the day December 30


The old tree had 

fallen over the river

to become the only bridge 

able to connect here to there 

I crossed the divide of sides

carefully for all lost souls 

afraid of falling into the water

which rushed in non stop frenzy

Working so very hard to keep

separate ideas from joining

together in the common ground of love

poem of the day December 29


Just a ball

rolling down

over the path

of least resistance

There the bend in the river

calls out in familiar sirens

"Come here, I have gathered the gold"

In order to escape the lazy invitation

The ball has to bounce

to fly over sinking temptations

like a wild pitch thrown by

the long reach of the Moral Dog

poem of the day December 28


Ice clad branches

glisten in the grey

overcast early dawn

capturing the fleeting

sad beauty of life as

rain drops drip like tears

into a settled winter fog

poem of the day December 27


Time flies by

on fun busy days

Time stands still

on boring lazy days

What would the universe be

without the skin of wrinkled humans

to bend this reality into a most perfect delusion?

poem of the day December 26


The two Cyborgs

human except devoid of emotion

were hatched right before the landing

The voyage had taken many light years

to reach the third planet

of a small star known as the sun

Upon entering the atmosphere 

the spaceship lost power and

crashed into a vast green jungle

It was a miracle 

The two Cyborgs were alive

Nothing remained of the ship

except the emergency box

with the code name Pandora

Inside was a single bottle 

containing  survival emotions

The directions read:

Only to be taken as a last resort 

As soon as they drank the liquid

The Cyborg known as Adam

grew into a snake and bit the eager flesh of Eve

who was already eating an apple

as she waited in the garden of desire

poem of the day December 24


A small dusting

covers the meadow

Shifting sand full of

Frozen drop dreams

waiting for the hot sun

to melt into streams of desire

poem of the day December 23


The idea growing inside of trees

stays silent for generations

as buildings around come and go

with their songs of human woe

The only clue is a rooted trunk

that grew straight and true

as only tree grown wisdom do

poem of the day December 22

the angle has changed

the sun is on the way back

eternal hope is now pointing

toward the growing light

It is time for those sitting

in the dark to open both eyes

and lift their veil of darkness

poem of the day December 21


Dark to Light

on the edge

of change

sitting here

in a December rain

poem of the day December 20


A window is a glass eye

to see beyond the solid wall

A pass through gate

to separate souls

Opening and closing

like a merry-go-round

full of fleeting possibilities

What happens depends 

on whether one lives

inside or outside of their wall

poem of the day December 19


Packages going

every which way

twenty four hours a day

This constant packing

and unpacking of desire

is a full time job

of concern and fret

as we track

the life of gifts

Are they lost?

Are we lost?

Shouldn't  we be

more concerned with tracking

the gift of life?

poem of the day December 18


deep seated

negative emotions

have to be dug out

by the roots

which have grown strong

for many generations

festering in familiar ponds 

where the little bugs

live only for themselves 

not for the soul in which they live

poem of the day December 17


Watching last light of a short day

Clouds cover the scarce sun

making the shadows grow

into overwhelming blackness

filling corners like a slow creeping river

I waited as long as possible

wanting to feel the essence of pure darkness

wash over the room of a lost December day

poem of the day December 16


Echos from far away

are only heard by

those who imagine

more then the mundane

The pebble dropped in the sea

reaches the shore

no matter the distance

Yet most clams catch the tide

wide open and eager

but miss the sounds of subtle silence

poem of the day December 15


A lone leaf

on the maple tree

brown and dried

What does it cling for?

I ask my dogs

too busy to answer me

as they chased a squirrel 

up that tree

toward that leaf

still hanging free

poem of the day December 14


a drip here

a splash there

and soon 

the river's

bed is bare

poem of the day December 13


Rays from a lost star

drift by waiting souls

unaware of their journey

only the lack of light

not known until it is gone

poem of the day December 12


Inside feelings

grow in secret

stored by fantasy

What moves within

the human spirit 

but mind mixed reality

I see a sea gull flying

far away from native shores

Catching clams without a licence 

with old poems that came before

poem of the day December 11


Each day begins

Each day ends

like a grand routine

A cosmic performance

striving for a perfect universe

It is only the busy little ants

that can't see the divine happiness

so lost they are from the natural cycle of life

poem of the day December 10


Stars on a frozen night

appear brighter when one is outside

shivering in the predawn frost

Their lights seem to shimmer 

as if full of compassion

for those cold souls gazing 

so longingly at heaven

poem of the day December 9


So many words

to say nothing

So few words

to say something

The mind is a game

of confidence and clarity

where flowers merge 

the bloom of reality

poem of the day December 8


In a fountain

from a forgotten sea

lives water born of liberty

An eagle flying very low

scoops the river from below

Then soars up high beneath the skies

where Gods debate the fate of flies

poem of the day December 7


The long line of birches

battered by a very cold violent rain

swept down over the long road

like praying palms blessing the way 

All were shaped together by the wind

except for two standing on either side of extreme

One had been bent into a perfect circle

A perfect dream tunnel in which to see the future

The other stood tall straight mirroring a proud oak

with a strong backbone unmoved by forces of change

I kept thinking of their individual nature 

and what made them different from the rest of the birches

Was it just the movement of luck wind and rain?

poem of the day December 6


Grain of wood

Grain of sand

Particles with directions

to play in the band

I navigate the river inside the branch

as I float on an atom as big as an ant

asking why does Grain have a part and a flow

perhaps we need both to travel the go

poem of the day December 5


A tree becomes

a piece of furniture

in the afterlife

A mink becomes

a very warm coat

in the afterlife

While a  human

sitting in a chair

wearing a nice fur becomes

nothing but a dead memory after life 

unless there really is a heaven

poem of the day December 4


see-saw

up and down

center stays the same

It is only the ends

that rise and fall

to counter the balance

of a floating soul

poem of the day December 3


The course of many a ship

throughout time has been

plotted by precise delusion

Planned emotional misleading

advise of the righteous uprooted

The talking heads of  Broadway

are full of themselves

thanks to the art of makeup men

The advise given is captured

in lasting detailed depression

recorded by the camera of misery

The longing lens of what ones wants

and what one can have

becomes the razor's edge of sanity

that lives within the face of the figurehead

as the ship sails through oceans bound by reality

poem of the day December 2


Here we are

once again

Once upon a time

in my much imagined mind

drinking wine straight from the vine

in a perfect little Paris boat

floating slowly down the river Seine

looking for the golden dock

where the Chariot of Camelot 

waits to pick the wishing up

with dreams so hidden from the oyster world

they're only found in frozen pearls

poem of the day December 1


Do words have power

without emotion

or are they loaded vessels

waiting for a human spark

Do guns have power

without emotion

or are they loaded vessels

waiting for a human spark

Something to think about

while stringing lights on the inner Christmas Tree