In late hour beneath lamp light
with pen of clay I try to write
on a pure and empty page
in the style ignored in this late age.

For here in this free verse time
I mostly write my verse in rhyme
the form of Poe and Burns and Frost
which seems at times is almost lost.

In a life approaching its December
it's rhyming writes that I remember
from far back in my days of youth
the old ones who appear time proof.

rain hiss
on snow mist
we press against
the cold
with warmth

we gather garnished
kisses precious
as gems
and slay dragons
of jealousy with tongues

I swam throughout her ocean,
had to fight her undertow;

her waves became my friend,
more than anyone could know.

Familiar with her coastline,
I've walked along her beach;

I tried to possess her heart, and mind;
both were out of reach.

Her air was so inviting,
I was dancing in her wind;

we grew, and were relating,
and, the thrill was if we'd sinned!

I so, enjoyed her ocean,
but, things just weren't meant to be;

Sometimes when I look up to the stars
shining in the sky.
I wonder, if anything more amazing
ever passed before my eyes.
Then I think of you.

Sometimes when I see the golden glow
of an autumn tree.
I wonder if anything more beautiful
ever stood in front of me.
Then I think of you.

INK BLOT ON THE PAGE

You're gonna love the man who brought it,
You're gonna be the one who bought it,
You're gonna love the way you feel at first;
You'll look at life through different eyes, babe,
You're gonna see through all them lies, but
Just stop to think, does it really quench your thirst?

Soul seeker's fate

A surreal trip through a hall of mirrors
Distorted irrevocably warped,
visions of the elephant  man.

Distended frame ,bowed and bent
Wizened creature life force spent
Vile technician of pain. 

Ripping hearts and souls usunder 
Dancing on graves,
The Soul Seeker on the attack.

Bitter denizen of the shadows
Sucker of the vital vein.
Rejuvenation of the youth he lacks 

Ladders used to be my friend
they carried me near to the sky
but now I fear that time's at end
as days of youth have passed me by

I still recall how I would hurl
myself up steps into the trees
as if I were a scaling squirrel
ascending often as I'd please

Countless time per day I'd go
up and down on legs of steel
I thought it would always be so
an assurance time was bound to steal

Mother, O' mother
what have you done?
Turned your youngest daughter
into a son!

Conceived in the dark
of a closet room
forever cursed with
the mark of doom.

Child unwanted,
mother's remorse
dejected father
steers a new course.

She-male baby
unloved as a lass
bitter and sharp
as underfoot glass.

Child always told
she was father's lament,
lies from the mother
resentfully spent.

Cascades... flowing
tears trickling down
All the while going
down, down the gown.

Cascades... drowning
waters swishing together
And completely surrounding
My girl, named Heather.

Cascades... crying
her eyes moistening
From a sadness so trying
that I just can't help running.

Cascades are what they are,
Flowing like fingers across the guitar.

The seedling sprouts, it bursts through ground,
silently growing, never making a sound.
First is the stem, then comes the leaves,
now watch a seedling, growing amongst trees.
In its lush green meadow, a trickling stream,
its roots swarm to the water, its elixir, its dream.
Small animals calling its branches their home,
as it hears insects wings drone.
Still standing silent, never making a sound,
content in its world, content in the ground.
It listens to songbirds singing away,