There are people with cactus hides
that walk across the desert sand
where others would
if not for fear that they would die.
Tag Archives: Uncategorized Poetry
The Mad King of Araucani
My vast kingdom, larger than France and Spain
led a crusade against conquest and genocide,
I did not have birth right, nor did I take it by sword,
The Fool
Should my heart suddenly explode
and cease it’s earthly needs,
and being stubborn leave for me
You Can Do This — A Prayer
To think a mans fate is decided
not by the battle won or lost
but by the heart alone is more
All the World is a Common Thing
I woke in twilight’s magic hour,
between the pitch of night,
pulled down over the land and sky
The Hazel Tree – version 2
We do not know exactly what is believed
until the moment it is placed at feet,
there is either faeries at the bottom,
The Hazel Tree
With roots extending to the underworld
the hazel at the borders hides fairies,
and all creation is astir.
The Sword That Cuts Down Scepter and State
When among men will come the cost of deeds?
what mad pursuit of silk and gold is this
that we, we happy breed of men have let
To Future Lands
I’ve heard the talk of proof that is puzzling you
Yellowish pad
My breath fogs the window,
some promise out of science
has arrived,
On Loss
I wished to see your smile,
but got only pain the while—
Visions of Dust and Dirt
It’s things grown old that hurt my bones,
a spread of green can easily fold
to visions of dust and dirt, and worse.
Blue Birds of Love
If I)
May make my heart
Chicago Poet
Among the smoke and fog of a coal fire,
the steel and the city
Doomed
Some say the times are changing fast,
Some say they always have.
The Gallows
Let the elite country clubs become grave yards.
Come and erect the boards,
and let low the noose, and let known the deeds
Should I Compare You To a Winters Morn – Sonnet 18 Shakespeare Mirror
Should I compare you to a winters morn?
You are more bitter and more discontent
A Pharaohs Rise
Among the worlds most pressing ruins I have seen
artifacts come rising as phoenixes
to part their form from the fierce driven wind
and sand that whirls around in its dying
The Stillest Things
The summer crests and meets
fleeting flecks of dyeing dog days,
an era vanishes into the past—
Tracing that Long Path
Our lives pass like cherry blossoms,
snapped from hurried branch to ripened fruit.
We flit from first to fledged to finished,
put out to ash one hundred years an instant.