Poetry in motion

In Christ do you have any encouragement? Any comfort from his love? Are your hearts tender and compassionate? Any fellowship from the Spirit above? Then make me truly happy loving one another, be kind agree with each other wholeheartedly, work together, one purpose, one mind. Life is too short to be

All my life this sensitive soul Searched for love and acceptance to make me whole You rescued me from sadness and solitude And changed my attitude to gratitude Your sweet spirit was the attraction Made me desire more interaction Anxiously awaiting every conversation Each message developed infatuatio

Late September ‘59 Gil Evans wrote the storyline Miles Davis painted sketches of Spain his trumpet played the mellifluous strain Musical canvas conjures up images of Sevillian caballeros, Castillian conquistadors pinstriped Pomeranians and Madridian matadors. Dusk on the beach, bright orange sunset

Lamplight creates the ambiance as I slip into the dusky dining room My eyes slowly adjust to the absence of fluorescence as I stake my claim at the empty table None is aware of my presence here creating my own atmosphere Sitting in obscurity, apathetic about etiquette extremely aware of my own intro

Standing atop Clingmans Dome, partly sunny cloudy day gleaming golden orange fireball warms my skin sparkling sun rays glisten and flash on windswept water abundant acres of mountains stand flanked in rows smoky blue haze hangs over endless natural beauty trees green or bare stretch branches heavenw

An exceedingly wise woman, author and mother of three while consumed in conversation shared this thought with me… “Writing is like giving birth.” She oughta know. and so when I write… I give birth to interesting ideas imparting imagery to experience granting life to a legacy that will obviously out

Longing to be with you in stillness and simplicity Lost in a loving stare, eyes intertwined Touring and traveling through your thoughts while a smooth jazz guitar softly sets the scene. A gentle breeze saunters through the summer leaves night carefully creeps upon the dusk until the moon displays it

Tiredness in your voice demands attention work once a challenge has become a chore years continue to pile up like refuse on a heap. Realizing some things you’ll never accomplish accepting the absence of ability the ever-changing body wearing down and out eyes that used to sparkle and glimmer now gro

I was concerned about getting to the studio on time, so the first time we were together I didn’t even notice you, in a room full of writers gathered together for whatever reason to grab the torch from a journeyman who would soon pass away. I don’t know what went through your head but, you ap

This is the summer of my discontent no surprise… I could see it coming The pursuit of power was my dream but now I know that fame is not synonymous with success. now work no longer is a challenge lost its thrill and cutting edge more money doesn’t fulfill my needs it only serves to feed my selfish g