Out of Reach

Standing before me,
Your blue eyes pierce my sad soul,
While mine decieve me.

I reach out, but you are smoke
Fading faster with each swipe.

It’s been a while (far too long)! This tanka was written for RonovanWrites Week 136: Eye and Fade. Please read and comment! And don’t forget to check out the other wonderful writings from this week.



Photo by Sandis Helvigs

Like a falling leaf,
Floating down my trunk
In hypnotic, looping swirls,
Filling my world of cold and decay
With your brilliant ballet of gold,
You made me forget
What becomes of a fallen leaf,
And the tree it leaves
Shivering in the cold. Read More

Lessons from a Jack 0′ Lantern

Even with the garage door closed,
The autumn cold condenses my breath,
Making a momentary, warm, wisp of cloud
That quickly succumbs to the frigid air.

The fly-like buzzing, low pitch humming,
And finicky flickering of florescent lamps
Provides an epilepsy inducing light show,
and plays a monotone accompaniment,
Supporting the eerie, melodic whistling
Of my father’s seasonal solo.

The numb throbbing of my frozen fingers
Pleads to cease the tedious task
Of separating seeds from orange guts,
But one glance at my old man watching me
With a loving smile behind greying whiskers,
And I realize this is much more than pumpkin carving. Read More

A Most Wondrous Novel

Lost and stumbling in the dead of night,
Occasional glimpses of light appear
Piercing through depressing darkness
Giving me hope that a new page in life
Might finally be written.

It would be a cold-turkey plot twist
In which the protagonist resolves:
To dissolve the coarse shackles
His skeletons use to grapple
And pull him to their closet jail.

Each day they dance and play
around him in a devilish circle
As he burns in the bonfire blaze
Of his self destructive cycle—

Maybe that page could even be a book!
A fantastical look at a clean closet man,
With nothing to hide from friends or family,
Who spends each day weightless and happy.
Indeed, a pleasant and frivolous read
Perhaps lacking in plot (and critical thought),
But full of beautiful prose and imagery.
Yes! I should think I’d enjoy such a life.
A book with no strife would be good.

Now if only the light might linger
And brighten my page long enough
To see beauty through my rough night,
I could write it.

Moving on

Changing foliage,
Falling to cold bitter end.
Home leaves with autumn.

Written for Week 116 of RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: Home & Leaves

Weekly Haiku Challenge: Clouds & Sunshine

Clouds veil warm sunshine:
Cold gloom overcast ennui.
Yet passion smolders Read More

Falling Leaves

The final two leaves fly from the mighty oak.
I watch as they fall in looping spirals,
Prancing playfully through Nature’s dance
Of Death and Life: Beauty and Sadness.

And now our tree stands alone,
laid naked, bare, and prone,
Amidst the fading funeral wreath
That remains: a decomposed testament
To its colorful but brief beauty.

The pumpkins that we carved
Are now decayed and deformed.
Our Halloween masks have peeled away,
Revealing truths more terrifying
Than any make-believe spirit.

“Let’s stay in here and hide forever,”
You said, while lost in the maze that night.
But now the corn is reaped and gone,
The weaping stalks left to squawking crows
That pick through our remains.

I notice my breath in the crisp air.
The long, depressing cold is upon us.
Always it threatened to invade our love
Such beauty and life filled our fall,
Alas it comes to bitter end.

You were my Autumn:
An ephemeral joy I let fill my heart.
I loved you with the beauty of those dancing leaves,
Knowing we were dancing to the grave.

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. As with most poems I write, this is far from a finished piece, but I hope you enjoy it! And please feel free to comment with your thoughts and critique!

Black-Top Scrambled Eggs

We met on the playground black-top
Amidst the chaos of elementary school recess.
You served me a face-full of asphalt,
With a side-dish stiff-arm clothesline,
So pungent “The Rock” could smell it.
And I’ll be damned if that wasn’t
The world’s most delectable dish of dirt. Read More

Two Idioms In Love

When I’m with you,
I want to fill a pot with liquid love,
Set it atop our passionate flame,
And watch with such intensity
That the pot never boils,
Using the magic of anticipation
To make every moment together
Last forever in suspended animation.

But when, inevitably, our love boils over
Warming the winter weather,
Welcoming a wet spring,
I want to plant a garden with you
And watch the grass grow.

Day by day,
Inch by Inch,
As practiced persistence sprouts
Blade after blade,
Up and up,
Until they reach my mind
Stuck high in the clouds.

And we will cultivate countless crops.
Farming: the fruitful labor of lasting love.
And when you kiss me,
The butterflies in my stomach
Will flutter about our green field
And over our hearts’ harvest,
To rest upon the pod
Our pair of peas share.

And then the summer will come.
And we will go whitewater rafting
Up a creek without a paddle,
But we won’t be afraid
For our current runs gently.

Even if, as we drift down the stream,
We find ourselves caught
Between the rocks and a hard place,
The choice will be of no consequence
Because the only decision
Deemed dire to me
Was to be with you.

You’re not a diamond in the rough,
But The Diamond that shines brighter
Than a galaxy’s swirling sea of stars.
Standing next to you,
Helen of Troy looks like a hobo.
The best thing since sliced bread
Is your distant second.

A raging bull in our china shop
Couldn’t even crack the crystal stemware.
Together, we’re a bazooka
brought to a knife fight.

But we needn’t bother with bladed bouts.
For we’ll be busy chasing rainbows
Aloft on the wings of flying pigs,
Sailing the ROY-G-BIV highway,
Swashbuckling for pots of leprechaun gold
From their celestial castle in the clouds.

It may sound cliche,
But with you
Anything seems possible.

My Girl

I want a girl who can fuck me—with words.
That employs her talented tongue to massage my—mind
In wondrous ways, making worries wander astray
Relinquishing carnal cravings and crude desires.
Quite literally, the epitome of oral pleasure.

I want a woman with emotional depth,
Who can speak her mind while lips stand still.
Our conversations would delve deeper than the darkest abyss
Simply by staring through the gates of the other’s soul.

I long for someone to lay in bed with
Where those heavy horizontal discussions are had.
Facilitated by flickering candle light, on dark nights,
Under cozy covers warmed by intimately close bodies.

Someone with whom I can discuss significant inner truths.
Those ephemeral fruitions from ineffable emotions,
Brought forth from oblivion buy that feeling of knowing:
That you are hers and she is yours,
And she is you and you are finally whole.

The thoughts too true to admit to yourself.
Whose solemnity empower a ghastly goliath
Too vast for your solitary David to conquer.

Yet in her arms you become invincible.
An army of two against the darkness in you.
Her words are the slaying stones arming David’s sling,
And her depth, the drowning damnation of your demons.

I want a girl that’s intellectually sexual.
Not sexually intellectual, or erotically exceptional,
But intelligent and caring, compassionate and sharing,
A person with whom the real me can grow.