Grief is love that’s lost its way.
A shadow cast from brighter day,

A silent cry the heart still keeps,

A garden bloomed, then buried deep.

It lingers where your laughter stayed,

In empty rooms and plans we made.
A tether pulled, but no one near
Love echoes loud when none can hear.

I reach for you in dreams at night,

But wake before you hold me tight.

Your name still rises in my throat,

A song unfinished, single note.

Words uttered with intent to inflict pain
Are often prepared by hateful persons
Seeking to maintain their powerful reign

Wow, I would like to see them drown
To be hurt and really feel worthless
Not to just endure a useless frown

Revenge fills our thoughts when hurt
An action that usually captures our mind
Grabs our heart and causes us to be curt

Through prayer and sincere regret
We could reclaim a comfortable state
And accept a bitter sweet resolve to forget

Sunday evening.

Whatever should a person do
to enlighten the evening's
unenlightened mood?

It dangles in the air
after the first sigh on Friday,
and the last laugh on Saturday,
not knowing if it is welcome
or abhhored...

like that silver balloon
caught in the reception hall rafters
from a wedding two weeks ago.

You know there are times we all need to share,
when painful memories leave us in despair.
To work through the past is the hardest thing,
while old thoughts of hurt continue to sting.

It’s in times like those we need to be shown,
the way it should go when we feel so alone.
From some simple song we sing all day long,
we can find common troubles where we belong.

Son of the sun, my old foe,
Why? why do you hate me so?
Persecuting me across all time
Like every breath I take is a crime.
Light may shine on all beautiful things
But it was I, Shadow, who hid heaven's sins!

I clothed the Cosmos' nakedness,
In a garment of unrelenting blackness,
No peeping Tom could claim he sees,
Our Father's shame and insecurities
I am but life's impenetrable vault
Hoarding worlds and all their deeds’ revolt

Being in love
With this distance, wedged and forged,between the crevices of our souls

Feels,like...a running tap

It's a drip, then, a rush,then an echo

Why do I miss what I have only seen in my dreams?

Why
Why
Why

Who
Who
Who

When
When
When

What other alternative
What other alternative
What other alternative must I take and swallow,
until you come for me?

New faces surround me, unfamiliar sights
Yet somehow I feel like I'll make it right
The fog will lift, memories will unfold
And I'll find my footing on this new path to hold

The twist in my life, a turn to the unknown
A challenge to face, a story to be shown
I'll navigate this terrain
And find a way, through joy and pain

With every step, I'll find my stride
And though the fog persists, I'll be my guide
I'll learn to trust this new terrain
And find my voice, my heart, my refrain

of one mortal university
undergraduate built in madly
the brainchild of one Forest Hadley
an a Ford able game paid top dollar
after being purchased by Milton Bradley
called Dodge the Old Farts.

A favorite game I (and the wife) play
here at Highland Manor originated
by yours truly (me) and the spouse
soon after we moved here
eight years ago July first
two thousand and twenty five,
and entails a bit of strategy
and skulduggery to avoid
the poor sniveling souls.

There's a winged bug in my lukewarm coffee.

I'm not sure how it ended up here. Maybe I was careless,
but I feel no animosity toward it.

I don't know how to save a caffeine-buzzed, drowning insect,
but the important thing is that I'm going to try.

Today the bus smells of lager, perfume and disappointment.
The Derby match looks promising. Fans climbs on board to cheers. They pile into the back, singing, swinging plastic bags of beer. The air stinks of camaraderie, stale sweat and hope.

When the big man arrives, the howls reach a crescendo. A child covers her ears and cries.
‘Keep it down lads, you’re upsetting the little one,’ an anxious dad whispers.

He’s ignored and they continue singing match songs. Forced banter carrying the scent of spent farts.