Predominantly speaking

I’m an understanding man  

But sometimes I’m ridged

When I expect from others

Things they have promised

I abhor if pledges are broken

Before any real effort is made

To suggest some alternative      

That I’d be willing to accept

In place of what isn’t delivered  

But if nothing was ever offered    

It’s disrespectful and cowardice     

And then I’ll always remember

Your words are… meaningless


Poet of the Light © 2022


I do openly admit to selfishness

Not all my life has been so dark

Or series of misery after another

I’ve had my cherishable moments

In relationships, and successes

And because I so treasure them

I’ll rarely share them with others

They serve in part as beacons of hope

When all else seems to go wrong

They remind me of the possibilities

When I feel closed in by my walls            

They are lifelines in human storms

That helps to maintain my sanity         

They’ll be here… as comforting stars


Poet of the Light © 2022  


Photo by Charles Parker on

 Did I look like a scarecrow

Whispers and wishes like cobwebs in my head

Who would’ve known, until it was far too late

After letting down my walls

After letting you get too close

Somehow, I know I should’ve known

I should’ve recognized the shadow

Standing on my own- darkness

I trusted, everything once again

Like the fool, I’ve always been

Whenever it came- to finding love

But finding I can still get broken

Who could’ve known

You had a hybrid heart… of deception


Poet of the Light © 2022  


Photo by Fatin Rifat on

What hurts me the most

Is when we both really know

You break me down, for no reason

And you leave me suffering

Broken inside of- what’s left of me

Until I grow numb again

Until I’m beside myself- wondering

Why I can’t stop loving you

Why I try over and over to touch you

Somewhere inside all, you believe                

But I only cry because I know it’s worthless    

To give up everything I need to be

And defeat those doubts you see on me

Reflecting off my desperate tears

Your ugliness left… on a face of love  


Poet of the Light © 2022


Photo by Anastasiia on

There are those who exist

From triumph to triumph

And never seem to ever slip  

Others from moment to moment

Like an erratic rollercoaster ride

But I’ve subsisted somewhat

In-between my own tragedies

I was often most supportive

Of those who claimed all rewards

Only to be forgotten soon after

And much like fresh cut flowers       

Vase- and placed for optical effect   

Until my use became abhorrent

Tossed out as … trash unwanted


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


Photo by Pixabay on

An hour before every sunset

I’ll walk to the water’s edge

The evening breeze is blowing

And daylight is slowly crashing

Temperatures have started to fall  

So, I take a seat on the bench

Watch schools of shadows swim

As waves rush from here and fro

Mirrored caps of light explode

Upon a swaying watery surface

Memories play on a hazy fabric  

Voices sound like floating whispers

But all I can long for in my heart

Is one more last hour… in person  


Poet of the Light © 2022


Photo by Rodolfo Quiru00f3s on

I may have been the next Holden Caulfield

But life intervened in a charitable fashion

That’s not to say that I hadn’t been affected

By things I experienced, witnessed, or lived

Clearly, I’d be one of the first to fully admit

People let you down, though it’s uncertain

If each time it was intentionally motivated

I error on the side of caution, to believe not     

If I am truly the product of my environment

Who is it by name, to fault, to seek recompense?        

What would any of that gain me now, so late;

A dying flower will still wilt away, will it not?     

Rather than become an imaginary inky character

I became the outcome of myself… in real life  


Poet of the Light © 2022

I’m loved

Photo by Michael Burrows on

In more ways than can be counted

But not always for the right reasons

I don’t always recognize at the onset

Or how someone else might mean it

The first time they love me their way

It can make me feel lost and confused

Maybe cripple me with traumatic fear

Hidden as darker parts of my own self                       

That was always rejected by any love              

Veiling new damages to my open heart                 

There is such a fine thin line in-between

What’s nefarious and the well-meaning                 

Even good intentions can be dangerous

If the gift is really designed… for profit


Poet of the Light © 2022


Photo by Noelle Otto on

Occasionally when spring rains

Come to fall with heavy intensity

I feel drawn to rush out and splash

In the growing puddled landscape


Occasionally when summer suns

Melt away the nights and stars

I feel compelled to just laze about

Floating in pools of cooler waters


Occasionally as colorful leaves fall

To speckle the ground in crispiness

I feel obliged to create a massive pile

To childishly dive into its centeredness  


Occasionally when winter snows fly

I’m readied… for its fires and quite  


Poet of the Light © 2022