The Bitter Truth

I do not lie..  Lies spoil the order of beauty between two people.  

Instead…., I told the truth and I still destroyed beauty

I told the truth and it was hurtful

I hurt you

How do you escape the truth, the murderous truth

to the gravediggers delight  

I killed you, a fist made of truths that night

regrets were too late

I may as well have struck my own heart

I felt the pain I inflicted from the start

May I ask forgiveness, where truths are told?

Is there a way out of this deep sadness?

I would die for you

I would lay down my life and carry you

through burning hills, through forever

I would do anything for you

I would hold you, caress your cheek

and tell you I’m sorry

I hurt you

I’m sorry

Fog #2

Photograph by Ryan Groff

dampness smothers air...

settles down upon the ground…

an eerie quiet...

Love's Mystery

Love mystifies dawn, showing a quiet stardom, and yet

how brilliantly it outshines the morning dew

spreading lightwaves across fields and oceans

like a smile that sparkles with day’s light

like a stirring pulse

awakening the shadows

sharing a beauty of the order of life

Discrimination ~ Haiku

Tonight I listened to Billie Holiday’s song, Strange Fruit, for the first time. Heartache came to me.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs

White Cloth

white cloth hoods to mask
cross bearing and knotted rope

hands bound tight to side
left to sway on limb
hung from tree bow at leisure

death comes in the night
hatred putrifies

prejudiced anger rains down

the color black dies

The Ferguson Conflict

Killing Field

piercing flesh, shots fired

down to the ground, violence strikes  

death never misses

a loud cry is heard

marching, chanting, clasping hands

for whom the bell tolls

Cold Mist

fog rolls onto shore

night air chills, takes breath away

step quickly through sand

mist pools, collecting on face

hearth fires burn at home

warmth patiently waits to dry

close eyes to slumber

pounding surf wakens the dead

drip bloody footprints

across cemetery graves

Forgiveness

This Sunday Morning

angels sing aloft

hear the voices lift the dark

daybreak warms the heart

Withered

grapes fermented, became wine

bottom of the barrel is now dry

time to say goodbye

no more wine

no more rhyme

gone the sublime

withered leaves, barren and brown

shriveled branches, curled to the ground

a season for all things

come this way again next spring

Winter in Yosemite

Where the warmth of the sun sets high upon the mountain ridge, the valley below lifts its blanket of fog and spreads a numbing chill across the grassland.  The stream ambles, slows, knowing the freeze of night approaches.

Plug Nickel

She held a nickel in her hand, a nickel in her hand was grand she said

she asked me how much my life was worth, my life was worth?

I told her I would give up my life for her, and would a nickel in your hand be grand? I asked

A penny or two, I was worth to you

dead or alive, consumption or flu

lay down my life, I would give at will

no other promise, a wager will fill

The Embrace

grasp hands to calm the seas
love fill me more each day

shine love upon my face

love seeks the world

turn your eyes to me

hang the faces of time

masks peel away

throw away the cares

find daylight’s strength

dark eyes, look into mine

It's time to start

embrace the clasp

listen for the words

sing a new song

lift up your heart

Love Speaks in a Dream

sleep nestles its brow

longingly, dreams gently tug

slumber upon clouds

I dream of you, softly moving across the sky

I dream of you, turbulent and exciting lightning bolts

I dream a dream of you, when fingertips touch the magic of shooting stars.

Consumed

She steps quickly through the chill of fog, a dense substance rolling toward shore to take the night; misty pools collect on limbs, and burdening her delicate outstretched arms.  She can taste the threatening hearth fires, and the warmth impatiently waits to dry her dark eyes to slumber.

Gone is the night sky

Gone is the day’s light

Forever lost are the amber suns, white moons, snow topped mountains and rolling grasses.

Away from city lights

Away from country walks

and farmland crops

Walking into endless bombing, torture and slaughter of beast, man, women and children.

Endless days

Endless nights

She steps across the land and into the cold of the fog; out of breath, her heartbeat quickens then slows as she nears the fire; flames touch the fabric of life from hem to waist, from waist to the end of days; closing her eyes, sleep consumed the heat.