Silky petals

Could not the Odyssey spare me a Nightingale

Thereby offering me promising hope of warmth

Invite me to picture a rural sylvan of green tops

Colorful butterflies in flight and light hair girls

Chasing after without real intent to surrender

Oh, I could almost hear their echoing laughter

As I lay alone, reading somewhat sprawled out

Upon an inviting blanket where I offer them rest

Then, we would chat about the flowers and moon

And of course, love and lazy afternoons- all alone

Sisters or friends endeavoring to become women

And I- merely but lad desiring to become a man

Would only too happily feel obliged to them both

After all, what then is nature for if not to…bloom  


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on


A dove’s flight

Time has nearly ceased to matter to me anymore

It has become an antiquated construct to stem worry

Obtuse footfalls used to be so insensitive to my sleep

When the object was to catch back up in a lost race

I rise and lay down when I damn well, please

I’ve no duty other than heed the moment I do whatever it is I’m doing

Besides, the rest of the world is busy taking care of itself

I immerse myself in those events I avoided a lifetime before

For a plethora of reasons, one of which I was never reason enough to embark

I still haven’t found my perfected self in any of these things

But I do find a deeper sense of awareness, in microseconds now

Along with a clearer measure of acceptance of who I may yet become

Even if I am the only one who will ever learn of it  

And that is ok, for me in this… present day


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Erik Mclean on

Rhetorical sips

Five p.m. and I’m eating breakfast

Doing daily choirs as quick as I can

To get drunk from neon moon nights

Followed by shots of my old memories

Some too strong to swallow so easily

Into a dozen sonnets, my soul has bled  

In lines and rhymes making no sense

Bloodshot eyes come the morning light

Finally got tired enough to fall asleep

These are the ways- I find my escape

I live love on a thousand inked lines

But feel like I’m only dying in my life

Maybe something wrong with my process

Of living life with the time…I’ve got left     


Poet of the Light © 2023


Photo by Emma Bauso on

Nothing about love is negative 

Those platitudes are merely myths 

To get you to capitulate yourself 

To neurotic whims of someone else 

Those who have needs to manipulate   

Love is a gift they can’t appreciate  

Love flows in abundance naturally   

Around the bends and sprawls out 

It churns in-depth and even falls  

Out of nowhere in faraway places  

It is fierce and gentle all at once     

Silky and soothing with its touch      

Love ushers out no waves of regret  

Love is the exception… in everything 


Poet of the Light © 2022  

Not guilty

I used to argue with my other self 

That self that never believed in me 

Always interfering in everything  

Making my life completely chaotic   

And always dragging me down 

But that self is no longer around 

Now- I’m not saying it was murder 

But I’d call it more like self-defense 

It’s not my fault, I wasn’t myself  

That self was just making me crazy   

I went back to check out the scene  

When I got there, there was no body 

Besides no evidence of any crime   

I’d just claim…temporary insanity  


Poet of the Light © 2022  


Micro cues are very telling

However, there’s no telling

What they mean from person to person

Everything is just general in nature

Whereas nuances are conjecture

And people must invest real time

Before they can benefit from guesses

It’s still called getting to know someone

Learning the tones of their voices

Any reactionary mood changes

Quirky glances across a room

Longing stare into each other’s eyes

Juxtaposing hurt and joyful tears

When to care and when… to be quite


Poet of the Light © 2022

Out of her element

Photo by Amina Filkins on

Her brown eyes captured him

The moment he walked inside

Her gaze followed his presence

As her imagination detonated

Her awareness, now a prisoner

As she imaged the two of them

Slowly strolling hand in hand

Waves rushing on a naked beach       

Sun setting as the moon chased

Igniting their intimate embrace      

Coupled, they slink to the sand

Where passion rose even higher

Freeing her when he asked her    

“You ready to take… my order?”


Poet of the Light © 2022


Photo by jorien Stel on

There are those- from my past

I’d like to sit and converse with

Casually over mid-day coffees

And cheating on sugarless diets

Speak about our learned lessons

Things we thought we mastered

And those we still haven’t, as yet

Not that we’re too incapable of it

Preset to our cognitive dissonance

That served us well since childhood

Because we know what suits us best     

Maybe quote some antiquated truths

Uninformed they’ve all been rebuffed

Unaware some things…never change


Poet of the Light © 2022

Not all poets be equal

Photo by Berti Weber on

Just remember after I’ve reached out to you repeatedly but you ignored all my effort, thereby arbitrarily establishing a precedent regarding our connection! Worry not, I’ll honor it and follow it right to its full dilution, right after I’ve cut you loose. Narcissist do wear many faces but none better than… false ignorance.


Photo by Norbert Kundrak on

He could envision loving her forever

Even though she paid him no attention

Life is surely full of plenty of surprises

Little did he know, she wasn’t one of them

Often, she noticed him gazing at her


Winter and spring came and went as usual

Rejection sometimes hurts nearly forever

It was becoming clear she had no interest

Time became a guard to his emotional cell  

Echoing in the hollows of his broken heart

Regrets of lost time had begun haunting him

She freed him when she married … another


Poet of the Light

An acrostic poem-