If I had Aaron’s witto say what’s on my mind,I’d tell you all within my soul,things only God will find. I’d say the things I dare not say,And probably never will:My greatest fears,regrets,or dreamsforever unfulfilled. I’ve been burned before, you see,In fact, multiple times.A fitting punishment for being socially inept,If it is a crime . … Continue reading Inept
Blessed are the slow
Why, oh Lord, did you make me slow?Are there just some things I ought not to know?I guess even gardens need some time to grow . . .Why oh why did you make me slow? I guess it keeps my heart from stopping,so I don’t need no pills a popping,when I see nosy neighbours dropping … Continue reading Blessed are the slow
Maybe it’s the music
I spot you from the door of the bar. You do not notice me just yet, but I busy myself taking you in as I wait to be seated at your table. You are at your favourite spot – by the window because you love to watch the streets, especially at this time. Up against … Continue reading Maybe it’s the music
Morning coffee
Nancy looked around the square from her bar table, at the serenely active locals who strolled down the streets paved with marble and she could not imagine leaving. Their clothes ranged from tailored casual shirts and chinos to flowing satin dresses which seemed more appropriate for an evening out. She admired the freshly cut stalk … Continue reading Morning coffee
Dust
We watched you sweep the kitchen floor,when the notion to do so would occur.Your frustration cut to the core,with worn-out sighs and murmurs. Through grinded teeth, you bent your back.The job had to be done . . .And now and then a burdened breathwould push the drudgery on. Between the chairs and under the table,You … Continue reading Dust
Céilí
How long had it been? Well, excluding her sister’s wedding, it had probably been about twenty years. This side of Irish culture she dreaded. It sometimes reminded her of the final day of a wake – a social obligation full of decrepit neighbours and relatives inhaling tea and sandwiches. The well laid out corpse of … Continue reading Céilí
Mother and child
She appeared to me in a dream as if I had walked in and disturbed her meditation, but there was no room of which to speak, and no icon to adore; only she who was seated in a sort of butterfly pose – legs crossed, back straight, shoulders at perfect ease. Her hands however rested … Continue reading Mother and child
The Land of Leaning Pines
They are somber and wise,With roots which barely uphold them.Their bark and bones bending,Brittle, breaking . . . It is the damp season,their gunfire-like crack muted,in wait of the hot hard summer ahead. Lovely and leaning,With a strange restless readiness about them.It is time, or it will be soon. They have earned their wrinkles and … Continue reading The Land of Leaning Pines
Night Voices
While my worries waltz in and out of my life, day to day – I try singing the hours away. For a moment it begins to help, then it grows into something more . . . I try my notes, tuning in to how I make each sound, and draw them together into a phrase. … Continue reading Night Voices
Can we ever truly set anything in stone?
Can we ever truly set anything in stone?Life seems to get the best of all things,even stone! From floor to ceiling,cracking, crumbling– every great structure we have built,along with their great foundations,collapse,eventually . . . The beams that buttressedour great ceilings,now burden our backs like crosses,threatening to crush us beneath their weight, But we are … Continue reading Can we ever truly set anything in stone?
Ardent Writing 