Days Gone

Take me to a Spring
where every day was as young as I
and the sun would come winking through the curtains

On a bridge from home to home
I’d find myself peeling flakes from a old storm door
sometimes tip-toeing fences or watching seabirds

Horns of the harbour created a mood like no other
as the smells of drenched grass swarm my senses
it forced me to take a breath deep, always

Then, those men. Those skippers,
two, sit comfortably on a rock
I’d leaped them clean, for sport

Where was I off?
Pass broken pickets, by streams of melt tucked against the curb
nothing mattered but the warmth of the wind
and where its blow would guide me

Ah, that was pure life
new and straight from the earth into my soul
when there was more than enough
in days gone

With age I’m left longing for sounds of a particular dory
a puttering missing from within my heart
and my dark red blood have been drained of ocean salt

Bring me a Spring like ones lost in time
where hope was as thick as the clouds
and the future would wait for me to finish playing



The Elf All About Himself! (For the kids!!!)

Once upon a time, there was an angry little elf.
who thought of absolutely no one, but of only himself.

He’s always so mad, which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work, was all they ever had.

Even his friends would call him mean and selfish.
“Why are you not nice? Why are you not elfish?”

No matter what they say, he swore he’d never listen,
because ending the holidays had become his evil elf mission.

Continue reading “The Elf All About Himself! (For the kids!!!)”

Plagiarized Love

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

my love for you is like a book with stolen pages
beautiful words erased
deleted lines…replaced
everything’s torn from the very bind
words rewritten that were never mine
an unknown author with a tale of a broken heart
spends his lonely days with nowhere to start
his pen runs dry
there’s nothing more to capture
in this tragic love story without its final chapter

Am I Write? # 3 – I Think, Therefore I am!!

It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moments passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.

– Vita Sackville-West