| rose closeup |


Pity Storm RevisedThe wind picks up its mantle and laments in desolate moans As swordplay in the trees above clatters like rattling bones Wind whips the rain with gale storm force and mounts in intensity The night enfolds, black as pitch, its maw engulfing me No tempest without rages, it's the squall within that lashed So eaten and beaten by chances gone, by thoughtless life shouldering past So cry, you old and wretched thing, lament your moments lost And let this storm within you rage, be blinded to its cost For while you weep and moan your lot you miss that patch of blue Just there, over your shoulder, itPity Storm Revised


Pity StormThe wind picks up its mantle And laments in desolate moans As swordplay in the trees above Clatters like rattling bones Wind whips the rain with gale storm force And mounts in intensity The night enfolds, black as pitch Its maw engulfing me No tempest without ragesPity Storm
It's the squall within that lasts So eaten and beaten by chances gone By thoughtless life shouldering past So cry, you old and wretched thing Lament your moments lost And let this storm within you rage Be blinded to its cost For while you weep and moan your lot You miss that patch
Pink Taffeta

Your Dad is always thereWith gentle hands he holds her heart That trembles like a frightened bird And lifts the veil of sadness Without uttering a single word He traces well-worn tracks of tears That chart their course upon her face And with a whisper of a kissYour Dad is always there
Banishes them without a trace And though she sits in silence With a sorrow all her own Though there is no other with her She is never all alone.


Ramshackle HeartMy ramshackle heart speaks French in doorways where streetlamps spin like dervishes across the sidewalks and the light curls up to the sky and lays its breath upon the light.Ramshackle Heart
It beckons a beautiful woman to slide out of bed and run away from her dreams and slip into a dangerous shade of red in front of a jealous mirror that can read her mind.
It lures her to dance, an invitation of tango steps that bob and weave like punch drunk stars, hip to hip, my hands whispering a sonnet under her breasts


Conversation with God IYou got mad at me that day I got high on communion wine and tied your rosary around my hips and told you I could talk to God. I could read the lines on his cheeks right through these calloused palms and I loved how his voice rose up tempered and clear like spring, not thin and waspy like you promised. He called me by name and while his coat was too long for me to see his feet, I knew he did not wear shoes and anger was not his road.Conversation with God I
He took my hand to walk and told me there was no shame in falling with grace &nb
Someday
--
Say hello to everything you've left behind. It's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it. ~Ken Andrews-Failure~
--
Dance through your day, sing out loud.......live life large.
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
Dance through your day, sing out loud.......live life large.
--
Say hello to everything you've left behind. It's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it. ~Ken Andrews-Failure~
Previous Page12345...Next Page