The Kiss


Il Bacio, Francesco Hayez, 1859

The Kiss

It wasn’t suppose to be

In broad daylight

Where everyone could see

But no one was looking

As your your lips met mine

Your hands held me close

Our truth set free

And I will forever know that you love me

White Butterfly


(A Cabbage White and Other Insects on a Rocky Bank by a pond, Carl Wilhelm de Hamilton, 1668-1754)


White Butterfly

Wings flutter to the whisper of the wind

Light in the awakening

The flurry an echo of melodia

Angels on high

Stirring above the decay

Leaving behind the binding of limitations

Set free…

Greeting the ones who know

Mesmerizing the soul that stirs

Peace is but a moment; comfort fleeting

Meaning unbound

The direction uncharted

Divinity so tangible, yet so unattainable

A Soul’s Journey


(Poem For The Soul, Louis Janmot, 1854)

A Soul’s Journey


Ones to come

Many left behind

Meaningless in theory

Heavy in reality

The old woman barely remembers

The young girl too free to care

Only the wise carries the burden

Harken fool!

Listen to the hushed voices

They are not condemning

Nor is your purpose wasted

Release your judgment

Or is it fear?

Remember who you are; who you will be

Live in the moment – like a child

Forget all that scatters your mind – like the old

In between is the journey, lessons abound

Enrich what needs to be toiled

Bear witness to joy

For condemnation is your imagination

And your soul is listening



(Setting Out To Sea, Valencia, Joaquín Sorolla, 1863 – 1923)


You died

Was it a punch in the gut,

Or a tear at my heart?

The lost time between us was adrift

Somewhere out there…

In the universe my thoughts would come to you

Asking for you to reach out, hoping you would know

My words were strong, but my feelings deep

Both hurt you – I hurt you

You misconstrued, misrepresented me; my purpose for you

Souls in wanting do that

I was always supposed to ground you

Remind you of the heart you let get cold

Denying the purpose for your existence

You were meant for greatness, only in a way that was not so great

You were great to me…to many others you leave behind

The wisdom you obtained, the searching from the ends of the earth,

if not the ends of your mind, were not lost on me

I wasn’t ready then

I’m ready now…searching for you

And you are gone

Without a word

You knew that, the cancer eating away the physical body that confined you

You died…leaving me to wander the road you have paved

Alone in my solitude

Ahhh…you teach one last lesson


Whispers of a Soul


(Young Woman On The Shore, Edvard Munch, 1896)

Whispers of a Soul

Sacred prayers

Longings of the heart screeching across the cosmos

Hidden beyond the darkness

Lost in realms of conscious reality

No one is listening; no one can hear

Only the shadows know the truth

Does his soul hear the calls of my sorrow?

Why must one bear the burden of knowing

While others live life blissfully ignorant?

There is no God of mercy, of love

For He would not want one to suffer such torment

Or leave one to such inevitable longing

Is destiny so destined?

Or are there interceptions–a chance of one’s fate

Where whispers are heard



A Highland Warrior


(Wandering Shadows, Peter Graham, 1878)

A Highland Warrior

I dream of Scotland…

Glens and hills, peat and moss

A man belonging to the land as the soil beneath his feet

Rugged and rocky, nothing weak survives

The whipping wind thrashing his hair

Warning him of old man winter arriving at the hems of his skirt

Survival is not an option, for he does not know the luxury but to live and die

Warrior against warrior, clan against clan

Tides of the righteous binding the two in no man’s land

God’s will the destiny of his fate; barely a purpose of existence

I wonder as I dream, the black hills haunting my memory of what once was

A fur-clad figure standing firm atop the granite ledge, the green glen below taunting:

“Come hither. Lay within my arms and look upon the glories of the heavens.

Breathe in and feel the stir of life. Know of something more you cannot taste.”

Looking down upon the land that does not embrace him, nor anyone

The purpose of humanity lost as it passes from him to the next with bludgeoned blows

Withering ashes for the heather that blooms spring after spring, year after year

His life haunts me to remember…reminding me of a soul unfinished