Category: Poetry

In the Winter Garden

Little Heyla sleeps

While all the nymphs around him

Can do naught but weep

And dreaming to and fro

Heyla steps outside

Walking down a little path

Through a door that’s open wide

Passing over fields of flowers

a lush and dark green wood

Heyla awakens from his slumber

By a white stone statue he stood

I’m lost! he thought

As he quickly turned around

To see from whence he came

to hear a familiar sound

All the nymphs had followed

Little Heyla on his trip

He recognizes tears of sorrow

and kissed the nearest on her lips

She sighed and smiled the slightest smile

Heyla patted her beautiful head

Soon he had kissed every glorious nymph

A round full of smiles as they carried him off to bed.

A dream

cushioned space memories fighting sanity

time addressed continuously pestering burning

crosses worship God semi pathos bubble

burst floating tree hippie child grown up

to be or not to be question me, life

fantasy spider web morning dread sound

alarm poppy field gerbera daisy cotton shield

black the all faces too shoes, boots, dew

falling, walking, praying, talking, image maker

A witches’ moon lies deep and low

A thickness in my belly

Orange orb of evening’s grace fulfilled

And I set about to start

The smoke creeps slowly as clouds overhead

I cut the lines a little darker

The abstraction of your life

It glows in time to the month long season

In my many blessed menstrual days

I offer blood up to the womb

Of loving grace, forever, the Goddess Diana

in her closet weeps, but loves her sweet submisivness

I catch the light of a full moon’s incandescence

As the earth below receives my every wish

My breath immersed in waves of Poseidon’s realm

I follow the hierophant to my enchantress doom

Rooted in this life, for better for worse

I’ll cut off your finger to get back the ring

Of a preposterous lie

In my Sibylline wisdom I’ll defeat your fey lie

Embrace the nights decision, eternal life! Mine

Under the celestial, gossamer moon

A moment of powerful time
Looking out the window
reading the rhymes of nature
over the closed pages of a book
Simply blissful flower
Freedom is your name
I wish I was your sister TODAY
I’d happily press up close to you
Or push your petals away
Until the clock strikes noon
Back to work, fleeting brush of time
Calling prisoners to her door
The pane is closed against the rain
I’ve forgotten the name of the flower