Morning Glory


Oh, light, posing promise,

                        like posies,

        picked apart, strewn;


        like morning glory,



                below bedroom windows.


Oh, jealous moon

     tempting twilight,

        with its scattered stars




  like the thoughts

         you left me with.



Love Letter #40: Cadence

I pour myself into your words,
taste them like an elixir
and run head-first
into a field of alliteration
blooming like daffodils
between the pages
of unconditional love

letters, still breathing
your last syllables.

At the sound of your voice,
there were rivers, running,
stars dancing ribbons
around the moon

and there was me,

a tiny spark
within this vastness,

just waiting to become a light.

~Day 30 and final day of NaPoMo! (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


The Saddest Season

Blooming can be the saddest season.
Grow, spread,
wither away

like petals
from a tombstone
covered in last Winter’s poinsettias.

I closed my window ,
drew the blinds,
wandering through the wildflowers
of my mind

to the last glimpse of sun;
feelings following the scent
of honeysuckles

all the way to the end of April.


~Day 28 of NaPoMo *a poem a day in April for National poetry month)


You are not alone

Working on my book and thought I should share a few thoughts…If you are feeling lost, betrayed, abandoned or alone, I have been there and I can tell you, you are never alone. If you have lost family or friends, God will restore relationships and even bring you new family and friends, and as in my case, he will even bring you someone who loves you unconditionally. Someone who sacrifices their own needs to make you happy; someone who puts you first…someone who makes you laugh when you are in tears…someone who not only accepts you with all of your baggage, but puts it on their back and carries it with you. So, if you are looking around and see no one, it is an illusion because if you see only one set of footsteps, they aren’t yours…..I love you all …. and I am not the only one… ❤



The trees are barren
as this paper
as I try to write
what is acceptable,
what is popular.

Well, suppose I don’t care
what they think

or how many look away

when the light of my syllables
touch the retina.

Day 24 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month.)


and In The Third Hour…

We don’t know what darkness is;

the pain of ultimate betrayal,
the blatant humiliation of a saint
the agony; the spitting in the face
of an unconditional love.

We weep, rant, rage.
recalling misfortunes,
unjust beginnings,
unfortunate endings,
but, how can this compare
to the break of a humble heart,

the thorns,
the nails,
the cross; +

the extreme cruelty of man,

and in the here, and now,
we return to the scene of the crime
day after day,

39 more lashes,

but this time,
we escape the penalty,
because, that day,
on the third hour,
a gift was given

only to be received.

Day 14 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


Love Letter #32: Like David

It was a sunday
when he first peeked inside,
gently tap, tap, tapping
upon the muddled senses
of a hopeless romantic
with glass heart mentality.

It didn’t take him long
to unfurl these tethered wings-
to lift up insecurities,
folding feathered promises
into a flowered path

unpaved, but favored
like a psalmist;
a harpist with a song

chasing the ultimate love story.

~Day 4 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)