Such an aroma from the kitchen.
My Mom and Grandmommy in the Dining room, preparing our Christmas Dinner.
Smells of Turkey roasting and dumplins simmering.

Hummingbird cake, my specialty.
Pecan and pumpkin pie fill the air with such scents.
Cinnamon and spices flow from the kitchen to give us the smell of our lovely Christmas dinner.

Busy as bees, everyone does their part, to gather their dishes to our decorated Christmas table.
I made my Old fashion sweet potato casserole, my children love.

Peace.
Serenity.
Every day
and working on them.
Breathing them in.
Expiring the tension.
Making myself a whole person.
Reaching for the stars
and getting there.

At midnight’s chime, poets rise again,
their verses echo on an ancient floor,
they drain their pints to ink their writing pen,
a séance of the rhymes they wrote on war.

The fire’s cold, the landlord long since expired,
yet still he pours from taps that groan.
They gather round, praying to be inspired
ghosts brood, while one carves couplets into stone.

In our lifetime we have heard millions of sounds
Most have been long forgotten or dismissed
But some sounds remain well within our minds

The closing of the confessional doors
And the sliding of the curtain revealing the priest
A sound that never left our adolescent minds

The well prepared words recited by our loving spouse
While standing at the alter before our marriage
Will never leave our minds or hearts

The first cries of our newborn children
Filled our hearts with joy and happiness
Fulfilling our hopes and dreams

In twilight’s hush, where shadows dance and play,
A fleeting glimpse of beauty left a permanent mark,
And in a boisterous mind, where dark thoughts lurk,
A whispered promise of love is heard which paved a way.
A gaze from her seductive hazelnut eyes,
Echoes a heartbeat in my mind that refuses to be silenced,
And one glance at her luscious lips,
Feels like a carefully brewed potion that’ll make anyone fall
in love.
She hoards an astonishing paraphernalia,
Where in a world full of red and blue,

The numbing hum felt intwined among souls
Where I lay, you lie, upon your chest
The sound of your heart, not there... was it theft?

I wondered then, I wonder still-
Was it taken, or never really real?

A cold stone ripped out of mine
A hole I now grow to know
My heart now cold
My heart now worn
But yours... well, was it ever warm?

A stolen murmur, a fateful lie,
The difference between you and I
I lay upon your chest,
You lie with it stuck out-
Oh naiveness do you ever rest?

There's a song we learnt to sing,
Carved out from hopeful frustration.
In our head, the tunes roll and ring,
Like a gun blown into fire and motion.

There's a song we learnt to sing,
Depressing tunes of sober reflections,
That all will be fine and get better,
Even as life rots, throwing us in quagmire.

There's this song we learnt to sing,
Lyrical composition of lies drowned in belief,
That suffering will ed during the reign of a chosen king,
Who will lick our wounds and end our mischief.

I am but this;
a shade of dusky shadow
loosing cohesion,
Soft fingers feather
touch your
sable brown hair.
I am invisible to you
as a spectre of
a wisp of air,
almost visible
in a sliver
of lilting light.
my intent is benign,
as to highlight
the elegance
of your almost
perfect face
of double dimples,
to frame with
a shadow’s kiss.
for all too soon,
time will take you
down its twisting tunnel
to break you,
crashing
on twilight's shore!

Shards of glass, shattered, spattered,
treading like razor blades against the skin.
Piercing, raging, bleeding into numbness,
This time it's for real, but I digress.

My head is beating, screaming,
the pain, rips at the heart; eating the soul.
Tears are stinging, streaming
a cloak of madness strangling from within.

Cut the wounds from my body,
paint the walls with my blood.
I didn't ask to be here,
yet here I sit, drowning in the flood.

Enough is enough! Kiss off!

Are changing.
No longer green,
but with tinges of red
creeping inwards
towards the centre.
They're falling from the large tree
outside my apartment
and collecting in places
which call to me
to clean them up
and remove them
from the balcony.
They're reminding me
that the year is moving on
just as I am.
The changes in the seasons
are in synchronicity
with the changes in me.
With each season,
I'm learning more and more
and not just about myself.