summer days filled
with dragonfly dreams
our love, like beach vacationers
deep in the night
what summer love has done
in this jaded seaside town
after the blazing sun has gone down
nothing remains but tumultuous sea sounds
like a discarded napkin
left by a shattered dish,
love was swept away with the rubbish
you think you know a guy
years, months, weeks, day in and day out conversations exchanged how things were left unsaid how we chose, or chose not, to be how we hide behind the way we speak how we say, or don’t say, the things we mean you think you know a guy and suddenly he’s a stranger you never knew his thoughts, never knew the things he’s done, never knew the reasons why things have come undone you think you know a guy now he’s an ass, a jerk, in a mid-life crisis, he doesn’t know how to deal he’d rather eschew responsibility and break away you think you know a guy he only showed what he wanted you to see now he’s come clean, no more pretending you think you know a guy but did you ever really know him at all?
Thanks for reading. This goes out to anyone who has been blindsided by a loved one.
Every Autumn fills
with browns and reds, yellows and oranges; Sweeping leaves and a steady wind blowing through trees. Halloween decorations, candy corn, and costume trials as little ones prepare for changes in the air. Days lead up to celebrating another trip around the sun, and yet this season is another reminder of all those years ago when we lost you. Years collect dust rings in the corners of my mind, so many things that could have been shared. The warmth of your embrace, the gentleness of your hands, all we lost when cancer captured you. No longer a smile beaming, distant eyes, a dream that no longer bled truth. Doctors predicted six months, then three, it turned to mere weeks. Sam was no more than a week old when she greeted you. Pictures snapped lost but still haunt. We didn’t need them to prove an ending met a beginning. It was part of our story to carry on.
Driven too far,
gone too fast,
said too many things
to make it last.
Now you’ve gone away
and we can’t go back,
back to where this love
Now I drive too long
to make sense of it all.
Drive too hard
to run away from it all.
But I can’t go back,
back to where this love
The lights don’t shine bright for me.
No, I can’t go back to where
we used to be.
Sure, it’s easy to say
we can make it different
but I think it’s better this way.
Out there beyond the hill
Lights twinkle in time with distant voices
Preparing for the new year
Making small promises of things to come
Promising small victories of things to overcome
What will they remember
When they look back at the year
The fickle promises collapsing around them
Or achievements made
Or constant redirections to get through another day
I’m in, all in
I’m kicking and screaming as loud as can be
From the tops of the mountains
To the valleys below
I’m shouting everywhere I go
I’d move everything I see
If it blocked you from me
As long as you’re near
There is nothing we should fear
From the moment we first kissed
My heart immediately knew it
This poem is available in Coffee Shop Sessions II. Click
here to purchase on Amazon: Coffee Shop Sessions II: Moving Mountains One by One.
Over the years while out and about, there seems to be a need to capture what’s in front of me before the moment and the lighting, the lines, and the beauty escapes the scene. I’ve noticed that my photography includes florals, landscapes, still life, and architecture. If there’s a person in the frame, I wait patiently until the frame is clean before I proceed. Of course, I take pictures of family or friends, but these are the ones that I claim to be the best of the best, and yet all taken from my phone. Click a thumbnail below to view the full photo.
Rock art Los Angeles, California hillside Griffith Observatory One of the many hearts found in San Francisco, CA End of a season Cherry blossoms Cherry blossoms Oscar Wilde in London Mount Rainier National Park Remains of London’s City Wall River Avon, Bath, UK Parade Gardens, Bath, UK Cherry blossoms End of a season Spring garden blooms Guggenheim Musuem, NYC, NY Thomas Jefferson Memorial tidal basin Paperver orientale ‘Turkish Delight’ Kayaking in Virginia Kayaking in Virginia Kayaking in Virginia Natural Bridges State Beach, Santa Cruz, CA Dutch Windmill of Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA Huntington Beach, CA Cherry blossoms Sunflowers Cherry blossoms Crossing into Delaware Washington, DC Washington, DC Water lilies at Meadowlark Gardens Meadlowlark Gardens Meadlowlark Gardens Meadlowlark Gardens Morning Glory Summer wildflower
Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco, CA How far is Rome from England? Bath Abbey, Bath, UK Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA Sunset over San Francisco, CA Sunset over Edinburgh, Scotland Sunrise over Virginia Sunset over Pacific Ocean Huntington Beach, CA Pacifica, CA End of a season Japanese Tea Garden, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA Summer blooms Cherry Hill, Central Park, NYC, NY Georgetown, Washington, DC Epicure Cafe, Virginia Clematis Early Spring blossoms
When I think of Carlos,
a beautiful soul of a man,
emotional, heartfelt poetry bleeds through
Tears creep on the brink of every reading
His hand held over his heart to keep it in
He makes a mark wherever he goes
The rhythm of his words flow
And it leaves you speechless
All you can mouth is ‘wow…’
Pondering over poems to capture what I believe in
A work of art always in progress
Instead of writing, I digress
I want the poems to come to me
It should be so easy
Poems used to flow without trying
Have I run out of reasons for writing?
‘Dreams are boats’ one poet says
It leaves me wondering,
Have her dreams already sailed on?
Are they docked and staying afloat?
Has she a ticket to the party boat of dreams?
Or have her dreams met the fate of the Titanic?
Whichever type it is, big or small,
and the condition it may be,
It got me thinking
And that’s what beautiful imagery does in poetry
It leaves you wondering, wanting to dig deeper
If there’s no wonder, no mystery, why bother in the attempts of poetry?
it’s been three days
with clear blue skies
i stand in disbelief;
there’s nothing to obstruct the view
nothing to prevent the light from coming through
so why do i feel at unease?
because even now, the skies are just a tease