It is Thursday

Image result for sleeping cat on a couch

It is Thursday

The cat sinks
deeper into the sofa,
lending her warmth
and gravity to that softness.
Wisdom breathes best
in stillness,
when one’s eyes are shut
and, in the tree beside the house,
a bird offers its song.
This is the only sound.


Day Dream

My poetry is evidence of my selfishness for I write not for my reader, but rather to taste my own dreams.

Minotaur Aggressor

Day Dream

Sipping tea,
I see, through

this sweet steam,
a minotaur thunder

its anger, thick
with flesh and sweat

and the finch flutter
about the beast’s horns

waiting, patiently,
for a moment’s peace

to make its perch
and rest.


I meant to write and post a poem each day this month, National Poetry Month, but ironically, my novel, a novel started and abandoned years ago, called to me and I began to add to its pages.

Here’s a small piece of what I’ve recently penned.

Image result for dire wolf

The night was thick. Gruntlug’s eyes, as keen as they were, could barely see the tall grass rustle and bend, the tall grass that camouflaged each charging thrunderwolf. Gruntlug didn’t have time to think. He needed to react and react quickly if he wanted to live. Common wolves would never attack a grown troll, but thrunderwolves, larger, faster, their fangs dripping with poison, were far more brash. One bite, even a scratch, could, and most likely would, kill the beast’s prey. And now, Gruntlug was facing five powerful thunderwolves, each one bent on one thing, one thought – kill the troll.

Day Dreams – National Poetry Month – Day III

Just a bit of fun.

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Day Dreams

Once, I thought, upon a time
when sprites
took their shade
beneath a mushroom’s cap

and dragon shadows slipped
under sheep
grazing in meadows
spotted with pastels,

tulips and lilies.
Great castles stood
against the passage
of age and wind.

as silence,
the loudest sound,
swept through black forests
where wolves bantered

with little girls
and old ladies shuffled
through houses made of candy.
I thought and I was happy.

I’ve Little to Fear – National Poetry Month – Day II

Today is day two of National Poetry Month. I was unable to post yesterday, busy with Easter and family. Therefore, I’ll begin officially celebrating poetry today.

Related imageI’ve Little to Fear

Not the dragon,
crouching like a cat
in the shadows
beneath the needled boughs,
ready to pounce,
its fleshy wings
unfurled as sails.
Nor do I tremble
as goblin drums
thunder from the hills,
as their raspy songs
chafe the night
as a sidewalk’s
gritty acrimony
scrapes a child’s knee.
but the poet
who lodges
his wit
between my ribs,
beneath my heart,
buried as a pirate’s plunder,
thought and gold,
he’s the daffy sage
who can set my soul to burn,
my voice to sing,
my contemplations
to shiver and quake.