Lust’s Dance

Spinning, whirling confusion sets in

If he doesn’t like her, does she still like him?

Is it love if it set

Is it lust if it stays?

Is it time without end

On the last of all days?

Spinning, whirling, confusion remains

If she can’t stand him, will he stay the same?

Will the next one walk in

Trotting out all his best?

Is it truthful to lie?

Are the lies his bequest?

When the long days are short

And the sun’s fallen down

When the moon parks above

With the stars’ glimmering gown

When he says he will leave her

And she doesn’t believe

Will he sense disaster

Until she conceives?

It is spinning, twirling

Out of control

Life everlasting

Lust’s dance …



Days or Nights

obsidian mirror

Days, nights mingling

Turning into a miasma

Of should have,

Could have

Might have


A filmed-over mirror

Of  time


The Next 9 Minutes

Some days I crack my eyes and wonder

Why is this thing yelling at me?

Telling me to rise ,

Get out of my warm, cozy nest

Go to work!

Then my hand finds the snooze


For the next 9 minutes.

Counter Clockwise

Take a turn
Sit in place
Twirling as thoughts,
Images pierce
Through space
Into time
Pictures unwanted,
Yet treasured,
As reminders
Of what
Not to do.


I am disconnected
From life,
From friends,
From living
As I wait
Hour after hour
For things to improve.

Day after day
One step at a time
I move through.
Thoughts fogged over
As past
Pain tramples through,
Shredding day’s intent.

But waiting
Does not help.
Static memories
Only serve
To tear further
the psyche, the playground
Of life.

The Men for Whom Justice Was Lost

A lady-in-waiting, waiting on the queen
Sees more than ever she should
One day it is justice for all she surveys
One day it is justice for good

In lingering times of honor and glory
She sees many she knows meet their fate
And in remembrance of those she will always remember
She places a bulb in the earth

It is but a tiny thing, this small act
But one that will ever grow on
For this bulb glows bright o’er the hillside
In its colors of yellow and orange

It grows from one into many plants
It grows ’til it covers the hill
It was planted in mem’ry of those that she lost
It grows there in plentitude still

It blooms every spring
In glorious yellow and gold
And no one will pull up its roots
As it remembers each one, forever more
The men for whom “justice” was lost

Poetical Punctuation Faux Pas

This is more of a reply to Mark’s poem from earlier. I wrote it several years ago, but it answers his unspoken challenge… Lay On!

For the Grammarians, Literature buffs, and humorists among us

Periods, commas, questions marks, too
Some would wonder, what do they do?
While others ignore them entirely
Not knowing the consequences, direly.

Now, quotations will lead the reader to view
What others would think, about me and you.
With exclamation points used to drill in
Something exciting, thrilling out in the din
Of reality creeping,
trying to get in!

Alliteration alters all allegorical advice
While similies compare as something quite nice
Onomatopoeia makes sounds from Batman abound

What I am trying to say through this profuse abuse
Is that punctuation can help through its use.
Not all would need it, but some it would appear
Would assist their aspirations
To make something dear.


Shattered illusions
Pieces of glass
That we pick up
Wondering what happened
Before we carefully
Put them back together
Rearranging them
Making them whole
In a new and different way
The next dream


The Game

You come to me
With your eyes filled with promises,
Your words of compassion,
And your hands with sweet caresses.
Is it a game?
Is it a playing field where
Every female you know is a player
And I am only one of many?
Is that the game you desire?
You come reassuring that no, no
I am mistaken.
Yet, you don’t stay.
You don’t call.
You don’t come back.
All because
I refused to play.

Divorce and relationship break-ups leave people open to “predators” when they are at their lowest. It took less than 20 minutes of changing my status for one such to show up trying to prey upon my “weakness” of not having a current relationship going. Promises, pet names, and the verbal works were delivered over a few days, but my answer remained the same.

Prelude to Divorce

Your phone is ringing again
I swear if it is her or her doctors calling you
I don’t know what I will do
She knows you are married
She knows she is interfering
But YOU let her do it
You let her give out MY number
So that they could call you from 300 miles away
To confirm her appointments
When she lives in the same town
When her relatives are 200 miles closer
Not someone elses husband.

Your phone is ringing again
The phone that my parents bought for me
That you took when I bought a new one
Before I could give it back
You had no right to give her that number
No right to be her contact point
I asked you to stop
To tell her that this was WRONG
You are married
I guess you don’t realize that anymore.

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