Who, What, Where, When, Why, How and Yes!

Another perfect weekend, how can that be true.
Yet every day is brighter when they’re shared with you.
I have not a clue what the future has in store.
But every moment together leaves me wanting more.



Smoke and Mirrors


Behind a model train, people there set.

Their never to worry nor do they fret.

The whistles blow at regular times.

Conductors conduct and the poet rhymes.


Silence fills the darkest of night.

A world dead ‘til morning’s light.

A flick of a switch then life turns on.

A flick of a switch and all is gone.



Purgatory and Main

Poetic purgatory’s a place between,
the best of all verse never to be seen.
Visions undefinable, feelings unfelt
and sensations inconceivable, when
squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squoze,
jumbled noise and random shapes,
blurry sounds and perception escapes.

Normalcy‘s all a part of prose.
Unheard the whispers whose echo grows,
frequency seldom as anyone knows.
Oh no, no, no and so the rhythm comes and goes.
Mind distracted by orderly thought.
Moments rest all for naught.
Escapers of dreams always caught.

Then times sold, image bought and change sought,
until the dollars sign to buy an eternity.
Though sense is never free, so why, why, why –
Why won’t desires die?