Scribbles - original writing Archives

Newborn

I am as a calf feeding on the wild earth naked and clothed old and young living forever before sin, before the fall, here at rest in your innocent arms

Dreaming of your bosom, I slip into the soft night, painted by a brush with the gray moonlight. Silk and satin, covering my gaze like curtains that hide the embers of desire— you smile at my madness. Each pulse begets the night, and each kiss …

Little Dreams

In a house beyond the woods she lies with the sun, immersed in the light that filters in through maple leaves. Child of light, she climbs the hills of sight, leaf-by-leaf, strung up along a river lined in green—but the water does not move. Summer’s …

Bohemia

Filling me, the scent of cedars and pines along the rocks of centuries, the beaches of summers that have never ceased. Sometimes soft, sometimes hard, a dance of water and stone in the murmur of soulful woods. In ancient times there were kings and knights …

Halting

Halting hands, a kiss that misses the mark, discarded as a thrift store donation. Always the view turns in this kaleidoscope world, the skin of her and I as one. I journey through the shadows to join a congress of fire, and melt into the …

Shadow

the city has shadows, she walks the cobbled streets gray branches, leaves, the trash beneath her feet cold and silent, a siren sounds and she drowns in a dream too sweet

The Rose

I wrote a poem about a rose as many have done before but this rose was withered, cracked and when the arctic wind brushed down to kiss her lips she crumbled and blew away

The Phantom Sings

Dancing on the moor The little creatures Shaped like dwarves I drink, and drink some more Amid the wild grass And chilling sound Of children yelling as they play Who is he? Who is he? The phantom sings today Drinking cider, sipping sweet The spring …

That Space Between

searching for peace in a forest of beasts when what we seek is cloaked within the shadows and light in a world of day a world of night

Together

embedded in the sun I sail the dawn river drifting for the shore where light and touch become a single point and two lives enfold together as one

Tag: Scribbles – original writing