Poetry
Welcome to my writing page where I showcase some of my poetry. I’ve loved writing, and specifically poetry, most of my life so it’s a pleasure to have this page to share my work.
I tend to write about nature, philosophy, and politics, and I enjoy delving into mythology and gothic horror on occasion.
Poetry on YouTube
For more poetry videos, visit my YouTube channel.
Visual Poetry
Written Poetry
Hell’s Hollow
Pushpins and dots map the places we’ve been
Places we love and enshrine in our hearts.
Places where wheels rotate on one and two-lane roads.
Places where the engine of time stops and restarts.
This place was once known as Heaven’s Haven,
And it was pregnant with God’s golden grain.
The land whispered of its greatness, of its docile dreams.
It whispered promises of wealth and fortune to gain.
But heed the caution of histories oft repeated.
In creating the ideal, humanity is inept.
Utopia seeks perfection. Utopia seeks its keepers,
but keepers are doomed to be kept.
With Time and Truth, Hell’s Hollow emerges,
and soon locks clang with a dulcet irony.
A once delicate wind turns deliberate and sour
The kingdom of freedom toxic with blasphemy.
Cursed lips scowl, “Take back your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses are not welcome to breathe free.”
Dirt-stained cheeks betray trails of tears,
and a nightmare now romances the refugee.
En masse they move and en masse they hope.
The wretched refuse seek another shore.
Hopers seek their arrival. Hopers seek their Utopia,
but Utopia is doomed to be no more.
(Published in SOS Art’s For a Better World 2020.)
Don’t Forget to Smile
Don’t wear a ponytail
Don’t make eye contact
Don’t drink alone
Don’t leave your doors unlocked
Don’t leave your drink unattended
Don’t get into strangers’ cars
Don’t wear revealing blouses
Don’t walk alone after dark
Don’t ride buses and trains alone
Don’t post pictures with your location
Don’t wear short skirts and show too much leg
Don’t let anyone know you’re on vacation
Don’t sit with your legs open
Don’t show any cleavage
Don’t wear black too young
Don’t have sex before marriage
Don’t wear too much makeup
Don’t lead a risky lifestyle
Don’t pick up hitchhikers
And don’t, whatever you do, forget to smile.
(Published in SOS Art’s For a Better World 2020.)
WordsWorth
If you had never heard a word,
would you know its worth?
Would you believe in what was not told you?
What is a word’s worth If words by their very nature
are restricted by margins
and scrawled line by perfect line to tell their tales?
What is a word’s worth If not for truncating thought
as ink and lead spill across pallid pages
leading minds over and over to dull and inevitable conclusions?
Must words be written or spoken
In order to follow Wisdom?
After all, silence, as it was once spoken, is golden.
Trust not the words of innocent whispers and deafening wails.
Thoughts are easily stolen from those isolated and defenseless.
Gifts unused mutate and submit almost effortlessly to a shadowy fringe.
Must we crack skulls to open minds?
Slice eyelids to open eyes?
If words serve only to hinder, hurt, or embrace with chains,
then have I not reason to lament what words have made of man?
The Lady’s Hopeful Sonnet
Hold fast to our protections
of life, happiness, and liberty,
for these are remarkable times
given to hearsay and hyperbole.
Debasers of self-evident truths
spew lies and indecencies.
They place profits over people,
and seek to curtail human agency.
Aye, these are our inalienable rights.
We vow to defend them.
Behold our one true beacon.
Look upon the rays of her diadem.
May her light be your ceaseless guide,
As life, fortune, and sacred honor abide!
(Published in SOS Art’s For a Better World 2020.)
Pendulum
To all things in life the pendulum swings,
from end to end and friend to fiend.
The swing holds no permanence, nor requests any rest.
The pendulum’s loyalty betrays no sense.
Wager not on soft landing nor subtle alight,
for the pendulum’s quest is ceaseless flight.
The constant is change; the change is constant.
Mors ubi dira fuit, vita salusque patent.
(Published by The Voices Project 12/15/2014)
Object
Heaven and earth collide
Abide irreparable harm
Alarms silence the clamor
Hammers bind the will
Quills ink the last
Pasts haunt their present
For the fiery crime, a godly gift
But beware the inherent malevolence
Concealed by beauty and shapely shift
Lies the sex intimate with Sorrow and Death
Within her vessel
Wrestle worldly tragedies
Comedies of kings conceited
Defeated by seduction
Compunction followed by guiltless assail
Hail, yet, for the ignorant male felled by innocent female
Many names are known of her
first as Pandora or Eve
And before the end of time
We shall know more to grieve
And so it goes as our burden to bear
As subjects of virtue, befitting and kept
Until we raise our voices and mightily swear
And with fervent disobedience . . . object.
Poet Tree
Poet tree, you are majestic
with your canopy lush and green.
Your branches are supple and strong.
Your birdsong is soft and serene.
To what do we owe such honor
as the gift of your stoic company?
I’m both compelled by your fortitude
and humbled by your harmony.
I sit quietly at the base of your trunk
with the hope of gaining your wisdom.
I run my hand over your roots,
and delight in your ancient animism.
What Is Beauty, Venus?
What is beauty, Venus,
without witness?
Focus my eyes and mind
to your purpose!
What good, Cupid,
is an aimless arrow?
Set sight upon my heart
and draw back your bow!
sHell
The shell may be cracked,
but the nut is intact.
Darkness and Demons
We cannot cure the darkness.
It is ours, as humans, to live,
but if you feel it envelop you,
stoke the light from your fire within.
We cannot sever the demons.
They are ours, as beings, to suffer,
but if they reach for souls to drown,
send your fiery beacon to each other.
Burning Questions
Of life’s enduring questions,
those of Death plague my mind.
I wonder if he’s wicked and grotesque,
or if he’s tolerant and sublime?
Some say I shouldn’t worry,
that my curiosity is an erstwhile trope,
and while Death for me is still remote,
I should be content to hope.
Until such time that we meet, however,
I’ll likely continue to wonder
if our souls are an empyrean delight
or naught but a treasure to plunder.
Heartful
My hands are full.
They will not throw that stone for you.
My heart is full.
It will not hold that grudge for you.
In the Quiet of the Night
In the quiet of the night I dreamed about you and me.
We walked hand in hand along a tame and peaceful river.
We followed the river’s meandering path through the city,
crossing bridges and wending our way through the wharves.
We paused to rest and lean against a sun-warmed gate,
and to gaze at the waves dancing their way to shore.
I turned to kiss you and ask, “Is it me you still adore?”
And you smiled and replied, “Darling, never more.”
Ode to the Ocean
You are the ocean and I’m the sand,
and for people to delight in you they stand on me.
They dig their fingers and toes into my skin,
and they steal shiny pieces of me forever away.
Do not weep for me. No, the joy is mine.
Because before they leave, before they part,
they will forever become a part of me
as you entreat them to let go of their hearts.
Between the Leaver and the Left
Goodbye is at once inevitable and absurd,
time taken for granted between the leaver and the left.
Goodbye is a test of vows and words,
hearts unprotected become victims of theft.
Goodbye is at once symbolic and deferred,
Some words are spoken while others are kept.
Goodbye is absence conferred,
forging a final cleft between the leaver and the left.
Learn More
For more information about my photography, writing, publications, and exhibitions, visit my About page.