Still of the night

featured in the poetry forum May 25, 2013  :: 0 comments

In the still of the night
when the moon rages

its harvest orange hues
to the ground I write

sleepily by a red light.
I labor out of the love

of words grazing the
tips of your ears

with a beacon of light’s
gilded colors.

I write on spindrift
pages of white harboring

just the right tone,
just the right syllables

to connect your soul
inexplicably to mine.

editors note:

Shhh! Listen… hear that? It’s the voice of a kindred spirit, come calling. – mh

A California sunrise

featured in the poetry forum February 25, 2013  :: 0 comments

The orange sherbet, mango-colored sky
Rises from behind its dark-hooded mother

Where exotic palm trees line the streets
Of Los Angeles – a city of busting people

Going off fragmented like broken, red
Glass – a kaleidoscope of colors move
Beneath your fingertips.

editors note:

Beautiful! If a sunset occurred in the forest with no one to see, where would spin those fragments? ‘scuse me, while I kiss the sky. – mh

The blank nothingness

featured in the poetry forum April 22, 2012  :: 0 comments

The blank nothingness
Of my daily life
Settles deep into my bones
Like an intense winter

Coldness that cuts past
Blood, past flesh, and
Inches its way
Into the deep marrow

Of my soul.
I feel it pulling at me
Like a child tugging
At my coat

For my devout attention.
My soul is tattered
Like a wind sock
And sways crazily

In the freezing wind.
I cannot get back
To myself.

editors note:

When lost in nothingness, nothing is lost. – mh

Halos and madness

featured in the poetry forum August 11, 2011  :: 0 comments

The Gods are squeaky clean
And I am laden
With dirt –
Their halos and harps
And my mayhem
And madness.

I do not recoil
From my horror –
I have lived
There for years
And it has settled.

Love is the Gods’ undoing,
An undoing
Of sweet nothings.
I can hear them
Echoing the night away –
Telling stories
Of hearts, love potions,
And a general high
Of epic proportions.

I have suffered
The violence of man
And will no longer
Be silent,
No longer be silent,
No longer be silent.

editors note:

Sour go the harp-string tones of angels when mixed with our cacophonous calamities. If a human cries in the forest, but there are no angels to hear it, does she/he make any sound at all? – mh