They told me my grief would get easier with passage of time

But all it has become is an unending swan song

As the DB majors and C minors cut through all of those lies

Leaving stripes of tear stains upon my cheeks

And my life, much like my broken heart feeling empty

I’m sure a part of them meant well but honesty played no part

Making my world even smaller than I once thought

Still, I wash my face, stand up straight in your memory

But I’m fully sure you know all too well, I’m just pretending           

You’ve been the soul of my heart since the moment of your birth                      

That pivotal moment when the universe changed forever             

I had no idea your absence would cause the universe to retract     

All of life’s goodness that your presence depicted

Leaving me beset within this slow-motion… heart attack


Poet of the Light © 2023



Empty preserve jar and buttered grain toast sacrifices morning appetite

I hear the daily political rhetoric resonate across the screens

Both on video as well as outside on the sidewalk of passing people

And yet even today I remain numb about most of the subjects

Rarely do I engage or take any sides of additional growing disharmony

As if I’ve been snake bitten intellectually and lean shyer  

All this world learns from life is how to fight or profit for any reason

Having long forgotten those missing from our broken hearts

Making my palate for the sweeter things of life soured            

And I question what more or purpose will become of my time left here

As grains of lost time are converted into manufactured solar panels     

Surely, human intends to extend their colonial perversion into the whole universe

Trying to one-up one another or find satisfaction for an unquenchable thirst

It is truly my hope long before then… to ascend and miss all that mess


Poet of the Light © 2023

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 Pexels.com


I’ve read that our journey is our mission of purpose

But I’m unsure others would be so easily convinced of that

Some may argue its unknowable; how cynical to avoid a stance  

It is strange how truth and fiction interchange with the winds

One minute, it and the sun are at your back, in the next vice versa

But for the life of me, I’m unsure which we catch most often or why

I’ve left myself available and open-minded enough for listening

I can be astute to facts and remain fully attentive

Yet, I saw nor heard from anyone that claims otherwise

I’m a simple man steeped in a resolve of living by my beliefs

None of which I can claim is absolute, but it fits me well       

Like the winds, I’ve often changed directions in my life’s venture

Some missions require you to remain… right where you are


Poet of the Light © 2023


Casting mere simple velleities aside

I’ve peregrinated landscapes of love

Along my way, I’ve paid heavy tolls

I still wear those scars on my heart

As I dared not to give up and let go  

Of a love that left me malnourished

After abandoning my heart and soul

My attenuated mind trust as a child

Albeit love remains my Achilles heel

Love liken a flower survives off hope

And sooner or later true love blooms

In places, no one would’ve thought so

Times grains have been lost to winds

Yet, I endeavor as a … divine sonnet


Poet of the Light © 2023


I abhor when others dishonestly mispaint the world as only beautiful

As if avoiding true ugliness humans endure should be hidden

And their pain and suffering erased from everyone else’s view of realities

To prevent darkness from infecting and causing even more tragedies  

Albeit others oft recreate a more palatable truth of what they ingest  

In order to stomach the illusions, that they themselves afford to live

What then of the efforts for those who’ve climbed out of hell

While all others were busy ignoring their cries for help

Those brave souls that wear unseen scars from their battles

Is not their choices to resist obvious fallacies more courageous         

Are not warriors as ascetically beautiful as an unblemished model   

Or an inspiring soul that has overcome a pervading presence        

How so disingenuous to use our beliefs to mismeasure the lives of others

And avoid the task of truly seeing our ignorant selves in… a mirror


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by jorien Stel on Pexels.com


I’ve discovered the hollows of hearts in real life itself

Without ever purposely meaning to seek them out

Perhaps on some subconscious level I had, but I’m just not sure now

Twas sitting about my settings when it occurred to me

How apropos this matched my inclination of a heart’s emptiness

Drained nearly bone dry of its once empathetic pool of love for others

And dense like echoes throughout all the neglected corridors        

Fingerprints, footprints, and salty stained teardrop residue still exist        

Almost like a crime scene from long ago that went unreported     

Oh, how love and life can become a cruel combination to endure alone      

Years, dust, and complacent cobwebs take on a presence of their own      

 Like the daily nuances of set times for staring out windows                 

Vicariously living life safely through others quietly slipping past

Having reconciled no one has cared to visit… in decades


Poet of the Light © 2023


I’ve felt your presence amongst the stars

I’ve longed for you but we’ve never met

I’ve looked for you outside my thoughts and dreams

I’ve felt touches of your soul touching me

But you hid away from my view

Avoided the same barren streets I traveled through

As I meandered on hopes and whispered prayers  

I’d find you alone and sitting somewhere

Even in a crowd of a million different people  

I’d know you by the gleam in your eyes

Feel the present heat of your soul burning  

Hear the erratic beats of your heart’s echoes

As if you were the only one standing there

We’d embrace until I kissed away your… last fear


Poet of the Light © 2023

Inspired by a followers post

Photo by Rene Asmussen on Pexels.com


Lush fields of golden grain grasses dance with nature’s hands

Adorned with an abundance of sweltering heat for man and land alike

Summer is a fickle season much like young love in motion

Impromptu escapes to skinny dip and lunch on picnic blankets afterward

Transformative like an enigmatic tropical island nearby the equator

Early amber skies filled with a day’s worth of paradise like promise

Until ushering unexpected dark clouds loaded with hail stones

Or tornadic madness chases our fears into a fruit cellar  

We bend with changing winds like a well learned willow tree

That has lived decades of good and bad times before

 A season that takes on a cultured kind of life of its own

Breaking up mundane nuances with long remembered excitement

Oh, to feel foolishly young and in love in one’s heart

Is truly a season of a lifetime worth living at least… once more  


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Clean laundry

Try as I might with an earnest fervor to clean my laundry

Before rising all of it a few times and then some  

Prior to hanging it all upon thin fixed and weak saggy lines

Where all might see and in hopes a days aired breezes

Will keep them taught and help dry them a bit fresher

But when all is said and done, I’ll stack each one and put them away

Until I pull them out to display again finding that nothing has changed

I’ll remain the same person I was, but my neighbors may notice

I’ve taken my time and effort to revise my lines even if only in vain

And in about a week’s time, I’ll do it all once again

Every now and then I’ll frequent ideas for new threads

But newness only last once and then they’ll join all the rest      

The neighbors may never notice newer hung sheets

But I’ll display newness anyways… even if they’re left unseen  


Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Teona Swift on Pexels.com