Tuesday, February 24, 2015

My Brother, the King (for deverse; Let's get a little medieval)

My Brother, the King

Am I envious?

Of the crown he wears
The women who succumb
To his royal advances,
The palace in which he lives,
Abundant in its material guise,
Dungeon of doom.

His thoughts,
Hold no more value
Than my own

His teachings
Instilled with cruelty
And punishment
No rod is spared
For his inability to

As he lay quivering
In a dark corner haunted 
by the memory of misunderstanding
wounded still from the bruises
of childhood.

Such fine clothes
Adorn his frailty
He hides his fear
Dancing with the Queen
Who does not love him
Simply a womb with a crown.

Am I envious
Of my brother
As I live outside
His prison of contempt?

 Even though I am-
Poor and wanting

I do not envy
my brother, the king
For I am wealthy
In love
And all the poverty
Of being cast aside,

Child of our father’s mistress.

I am warmer
In the fields of want
Than I could ever hope
To be
Within the confines
Of his prison

I hear him weep at night.
Do you?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

For You (for deverse- A Poem From the Future)

For You

I know you never believed
you’d still be standing
painting your dreams
with those crooked hands
your body, fighting itself
like  an unwelcome intruder-

Yet here you are
reading these lines
penned by those swollen, red
works of art God didn’t let time

And how the grandchildren
love you, so happy you are here
to hold their babies-

Benjamin, the sweet and gentle child
grew up to be everything you imagined.
 How he reminds you of yourself,
 always searching, grasping time
 knowing it is all too fleeting.

The little girl, you called Baby P.
holds her son and sings the songs
Gammie taught her, old Motown
remembering your gentle voice.

Baby Kay holds her children
tells them the story of Margaret,
The Happy Cub, filled with hugs
and good wishes and how you
brought her to life, more precious
than the prize you told her one day
she would win for helping to heal
the wounded.

Your three girls
still hold you close
treasuring all the moments
you shared with them,
years reflecting the bluest eyes.

As you all have witnessed
the changing world,
no longer a digital age
of cold communication

It has returned to the human touch
 we all missed for so long.

The sun still shines brightly,
the moon lulls the sleeping
and though you are now old
and waiting, you know 
how blessed you have been.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

My House, Half Empty

I occupy too many rooms
All sparse
Only fragments of me
Fill the shadows

No one room
Can I fill
Vacant, a flickering of light
Soon extinguished
By  indifference.

The pearl, hidden in the
Confines of world
Blinding its eye

Although it burns brightly
In all that is human
It offers no riches deemed worthy.

It is a pauper’s song
Ancient lyrics of a search
For the why and the need
of the poets who are always hungry. 

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Is This Love?

I would like
to hold you

without restraint
just let you be
breathe in and out of me-

Sustaining the beat
of hearts who discovered
each other when the night
 left us empty enough
 to fill the pure space between us.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015


Held hostage
by the shackles of limbo
where reaching is restrained.

Always in the posture
of departing, feet bound
by doubt.

The ransom already paid
by the crippled years
she binds to memory.

Never blooming in mid-afternoon,
she rides the dark horse beneath the moon
seeking the Goddess who will save her.

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Silent Snow (for deverse Snowed under, Iced in...)

Quiet earth
Beneath white silence

Untainted by this world

How it makes one
Go inward
Feel the gentle stirrings
Of memory

For the warmth of shelter
Empathy for those without

Like a seventh day
All is still
We can almost hear
 The angels sigh.


The thief arrives
stealing the lies

almost fatal
stirs in the dark

and some part of you
cries in the night.