La Pasion

(Photo credit: Brooke Shaden)

This burning energy
living inside me
a beating, breathing
thoughts and emotions,
intertwining branches
to my soul,
the very essence
to who I am;
this burden, a gift,
desperate to be shared,
as powerful as a wildfire,
nothing will be spared.

Were You I

(Photo credit: Google images)

Were you I
you would know,
the things I’ve seen,
where I’d go.

Were you I
you wouldn’t guess,
why I do not bother,
with the rest.

Were you I
you would hug me,
never let go,
in tender honesty.

Were you I
you would be gentle,
knowing I’m delicate,
and very sentimental.

Were you I
you would see,
I’m the same as you,
always will I be.



(Photo credit: Flickr – public domain)

She rises over the mountain,
greeting me with soft light.
She?, you ask.
Yes, she, for she glows,
she radiates with happiness,
consumed by inner explosions,
sharing what she has
for all to see,
bringing life, bringing hope,
to every corner she touches,
most important of the stars,
and most faithful.
I go to my window,
peeking out at her,
sending prayers of thankfulness,
for her glorious rerurn.

Mercy Tree


Another of his poems I enjoyed very much.

Originally posted on Sounds of the Son:

Shall I plant these seeds of love
To grow the mercy tree?
Or should I keep them in my pocket
Save them just for me?

Shall I let these passions bloom
And flower for all to see?
Or should I keep them in my heart
Next to impossibility?

Shall I spread these grains of hope
In the name of liberty
Or should I keep them in my cupboard
Under lock and key?

Shall I give these passions room
Allow them to be free?
Or should I keep them in my head
Next to insensitivity?

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Touch You

( Photo credit: Google stock image)

To touch you
would be divine,
a symphony inside
my heart would play
at the moment
my skin touches yours.

To touch you
would be heaven,
a gossamer caress
of soul upon soul
I know would transpire.

To touch you
would be a dream come true,
every longing hope
I’ve carried inside
made reality.

To touch you
would be scary,
exposing my self
completely and unhindered
as I’ve never done.

To touch you
would be perfect,
sneaking without words
all that we have carried
until this moment.

To touch you…

Too Much Grey

(Photo credit: Anna Pales)

I’m so confused,
do I go this way or that,
because both paths have
their pros and cons,
one path feels right
to my heart,
the other feels right
to my mind,
it’s a battlefield,
of which there will be
only one victor,
meaning a certain casualty,
and pain I am loathsome
to be the cause of,
it’s a reminder
that life is so full of grey,
not many clear distinctions,
black and white calculations,
do this, not that,
but who to love,
is a different choice,
and what to do with that love
a decision that is rarely easy,
causes me to stay awake,
when I should be sleeping,
because I’m torn,
do I do this, or that,
go here, or there,
no simple answer,
and I cannot compare,
my life to any others,
for it is my own,
and yet,
that fact does not
make it any easier.

It’s Me

( Photo credit: Getty Images)

It’s not you, it’s me,
at least I think it must be,
for time after time,
like reading the same nursery rhyme,
I reach out to others,
my cordiality smothered,
by those dry as toast,
greeting me like a ghost,
leaving me bewildered,
the water’s unfiltered,
a bad taste on my tongue,
when all is said and done,
think I’ll keep to myself,
seems better for my health.

Not Your Definition

(Photo credit: Scott MacInnis)

A sculpture,
shaped to perfection,
exquisite to behold,
is something that
I will never be.

Willowy of form,
delicately petite,
eliciting tender admiration,
is something that
I will never be.

But beautiful,
beginning within,
extending outward,
is something that
I know I am.