A fetching title
can save a poem
Like a fiery maestro
can free a song
Its marching orders
endorse each line
And beat a cadence
that words define
To set the page
and clear the way
It stakes a claim
to all you say
While some may tout
“It’s Just A Name”
The Sage reminds us
— its crown reclaims
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
The human voice
is different
from every other sound
Imploring nature
and its Lord
to which our souls are bound
Each word expressed
to stand alone
alive inside the din
To free what noise
would only hide
— in echoes whispered thin
To be judged
not as good
as his parents
To be known
for the things
he was not
His legacy
paled
in the afternoon light
With a name
that misfortune
— had wrought
(The New Room: September, 2026)
The power of poetry
the world is our Muse
No part unimportant
no win and no lose
Alive and unending
she waits to be born
Inside what we’ve written
with joy — and forlorn
From Everest to Mariannas
her messages lie
Above and below us
to welcome inside
Reborn with each musing
her power to save
inside every passage
— from birth to the grave
(The New Room: September, 2026)
Our truth
a painful fusion
Without it
but illusion
Tatanka
flees the mighty grass
Our future
— in the past
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: September, 2026)
I never thought
I would get this old
I never thought
I would feel this cold
I never thought
that my sight would fail
I never thought
I would lose the trail
I never thought
that my friends would die
I never thought
that the truth could lie
I never thought
that the time would come
I never thought
— that my race had run
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
Emily was born
inside of a poem
Without the belabor
of words in her knowing
Ending each lyric
before it began
No start and no finish
— in place where she ran
(Amherst Massachusetts: September, 2026)
Dreams
camouflage time
in the magic
of sleep
Taking
us inward
with messages
deep
Dreams
are a bridge
crossing
into the light
Where words
become tokens
of eternal
— delight
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
Without darkness
sunlight
would be hard
to see
The first
casualty
of blindness
is truth
Knowledge
lacking reference
an egg
that won’t hatch
As wasted
on the folly
of the young
— is youth
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
The Dying Trance
A soul will rot
in boredom
The spirits
dying trance
Once disengaged
all feelings fade
without
— a sideward glance
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
What Eyes Miss
Children
cross those barriers
that adult’s
hide behind
Wading
into no man’s land
instinctively
alive
Children
cast fate to the wind
without
a second thought
Seeing
what our eyes will miss
in strictures
— we’ve been taught
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
Voices
Alive
no longer conscious
my words
survive the grave
When read aloud
to lift my shroud
in voices
— time belayed
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
