Poetry from my Creative Writing Class

In Moonlight

In moonlight,

saltwater drips from the gnarled domes

of laden vessels,

beginning the end of the circle.


In moonlight,

their mothers and grandmothers

assaulted the shore,

in a procession made sacred by time.


In moonlight,

wearily digging wombs

they let fall the eggs of new sons and daughters,

white creations within wet earth.


The pearls of bone open,

letting loose

the slow green children from a well appointed prison,

they emerge from the sand;

leaving footprints and memories,

to be washed

into the constant mother sea.



The River is,

each moment changing, transforming,

as I change and transform.


Does the river possess its water?

Do I possess myself?


I look back on the path the river,

has carved into the earth.

I see the journey I have taken.

This is not me,

just my memory,

of history.

My eyes are open,

to the future

as the river rushes on,

bubbling, twisting, turning,

I live in the experience

of beloved now.

Who knows what transmutations,

and evolutions,

are in store?



Divine breath, an epiphany

As words flow and worlds grow

I’m peering into infinity,

Formless in the void,

Spewing forth creation

From deep within;

A higher self of the self.

A melody wells from the birth of emotion,

From the seat of the soul,

Inspiring wonder in the beholding of beauty,

Awakening the spirit of an unfolding destiny.

Now I’m set to go on the wyld,

Perched on the cliffs of forever

With poetry as my might

I head off into twilight

Rebirth in bliss,

My eyes reflecting

The eternal golden dawn.



The pure, singing, girl without care,

gradually, casually, completely unaware,

slipped ever deeper into the regio.

Piercing the barriers of the twisted mirror,

Passing through and entering my realm.


Oh, fair maiden step not any further,

for the heart of my kingdom

awaits in the inner ring

of stones and mushrooms,

past this grove of Ash and Rowan.


Many are the dangers in my woods,

Beware! For the satyr’s lust roams here.

Fear also, the blood and spirit craving Kia Sidhe,

and most of all, awake not the Forest Lords,

slumbering within their ancient trees.


Soon beautiful lady, night will arrive

within this vast and mutable dreaming,

influencing my nature, childe,

shifting light into shadow,

filling me with a growing need.


As the gloaming deepens,

with a titanic effort of will,

my human half screams,

Leave now! Or forever you will stay,

In these lands of eternal summer.


Quickly lass, you must choose,

or your mortal life you’ll lose,

for my hunger can be held

long enough for you to go

and pass beyond my golden bough.


Kingdom of the Blind

I’m not to blind to see…

the secret wars

the white lies

that money talks

and freedom dies

just don’t talk about it


Dead souls wearing black silk ties

sell your soul for the merchandise

debts accrue so you work all your life

for the vast sums to purchase paradise

In the kingdom of the blind


I see the world wars

the great lies

that greed talks

and wisdom dies

just don’t talk about it


There is confusion at the pharmacy

about how to prescribe the cure for insanity

the new gods are sex, scandals, and drugs

appeased by the media frenzy in our sick society

In the kingdom of the blind

Take a pill and just don’t think about it


I see the secret wars

the corporate lies

that power rules

and the hero dies

In the kingdom of the blind


It’s all just props and scenery

suicide dreams and mediocrity

the one-eyed man is ostracized,

burned alive or crucified

for telling the slaves

chained to their comfortable caves

of sunlight and trees

or the sweet breeze

of royal reason.


In the kingdom

In the kingdom of the blind

Just don’t talk about it…


The Gauntlet

I passed the test of riddles and skills

As I walked through the valleys and hills

Upon my path I finally met him

The lord of trees called Glasduine


He told me the tales of ancient times

Of gods and kings their glories and crimes

He taught me the words to the mages games

That illuminate all things true names


Finally he left and bid me farewell

With new lore and a story to tell

Now I know the secrets of the art

That open the way to play my part



High of the low, and high of the high

Nothing truly dies

High of the high, and high of the low

Our destiny is to grow


Let me tell you a story or three

Of sorcery, war, or maid to free

Let me charm you so your soul can fly

Upon wondrous dreams that fool the eye


Now drink honey mead and savor life

While you kiss and love your lass or wife

Listen to the heart, that is the trick

For that is truly great magic



Penetrate the barriers

of the mind and soul

Awaken to the truths

that society seeks to blind


The door within

Gateway to a new vision

With intent, see through,

Feel, another’s essence


Become the beast

Welcome the saint

Extremes wrapped in fragile spirit

Preserve the primitive

Sing into the sea of illusion




Cast aside the masks that hide, the sight of within

Cast aside the lies that twist, the truth of within

Find what’s within, feel the moment grow

Into a new view, as you see what is

Step aside from this and that, they separate you

Step aside from faith and fact, they rule you

Find your center, feel the moment grow

Into a new you, when you see what is

Perceive the world with clear eyes

Slip past the tricks that bind

Perceive the self with clear eyes

Slip past the memories that blind

Step inside to the place between your unspoken lies

Step inside to the now between your whispered crimes

Listen to truth from the heart

Listen to eternity connect the world

To the place within

Calm the soul and become the whirlwind

Awake the mind and become human

Understanding is the key that unlocks the prison of extremes

Be free from exile and taste the dream

Become the within, Live from within


So much depends

(In the manner of William Carlos Williams)


So much depends

Upon the red BK cup

Filled with cola

Sitting on the table

Next to the white haired lady


The Apprentice’s Way

Atop the mountain where crystal rivers branch

Begins the journey of the heart

Seeds are born from the fertile earth

Breathing inspiration within the gleam


Discovery of the rhythm of the Drum

Continues the path of the mind

Mysteries ring from below to the upper air

Drinking deeply from the starry cow’s cream


Within the spiraled wisdom of Cormac’s cup

Ends the ladder of the soul

Seven sages penetrate the riddle of fire

Singing the measure of time’s own stream


I, son of the tree and brilliant glory

Upon this road edged in shadow

Listen silently to the otherworldly ocean

Entering into the hazelnut’s dream


The Gift

Ah, the Awen comes arushin’,

Casting me adrift,

Upon the ship of poetry.

Seizing my mind,

With the instant,

All encompassing might of the Divine Inspiration.


I’m awash in a sea of music

Carrying my soul away

As notes riding the wave echo

Emotion’s tide

Ebbs and flows


Drowning me in creation’s ecstasy.


To My Moonheart


Passion pounds through my veins,

With beauty piercing my eyes.

Behold! The cynic’s filters

Cannot stand tall before her.


Wonder slips into my Ivory Tower,

Tremors exciting me with fear.

Behold! The future becomes alive!

As I stand tall before her.


Pale dreams shatter like old mirrors,

Awakening me with exquisite pain.

For this ancient heart becomes young,

When she stands tall before me.


My fair rose blooms when she smiles,

Brightening my life and my soul.

There is no need to hide,

For we stand tall before the world.



Passion bubbling up from the cauldron

Hung over the forge of the soul’s fire

A creation of the mind-body tension

As immature emotions override wisdom’s choice

For being good is truly arduous

You can see this every day

For reason’s freedom crafts stronger chains

Look at the ordinary people

Doing ordinary evils

Rationalizing their actions

Look deeply into your deeds

For they betray the mind

Showing a mirror of funhouse reflections

Distortions of truth

Clowns and ringmasters

Are shown on the other side

Which is which?


Cauldron of Poesie

Honey tongued lips

Cause to spring forth

Images torn from fantasy


Sweet caresses

Skalding burns





Conduit to the truth

Catalyst of reality

Symbols poured pure


Reflection of an Echo

The wind playing within

The harp of my soul

Notes ringing in sympathy

With the outside symphony


Be still and silent within

To hear the voice of the soul

To understand and have sympathy

Towards life in the grand symphony


Simple Kindness

Simple kindness

Pours meaning into life

Beyond the complexities

That exist

Beyond the riddles

We seek to untwist

Nothing else is truly real

Nothing else can quite touch

The sensitive soul

No greater gift

Than a simple act of



Spring Landscape

Nature’s joy fills everyone

As leaves kiss the wind and sun

Oak trees stand erect and proud

Piercing the valley for fun

Mountain peaks framing the scene

Where beautiful rivers run

While dreaming of painter

Of a vista set to stun


Fields of Fire

Indirect and covert

psychic bullets

of hypocrisy and hatred

are fired upon the impressionable

fragile young mind


Shattering conceptions

when kindness and forgiveness

are perceived as weakness


The great wheel’s

spokes are broken

and spinning out of sync


While money rules

the spirit and mind

is purchased by capitalism inc


The childe hides

seeking a nightlight

in the darkness



Is a duel of wits,

In a room full of enemies.

The challenge of a verbal contest

To rise and to achieve,

To overcome.


To sip,

To savor the flavor,

The stimulant of a vanilla breve.

In a room full of amici,

Is an exchange of wits.



Flee thy erstwhile corpus,

Flee thy physical prison,

Of mere matter and blood.


Fly on wings of thought,

Through all mortal barriers,

Past the foolishness,

Of embodied life.


Find wonder in,

The beauty of abstraction.


Create worlds,

Out of dreams.


Let possibilities reign,

Let probabilities roam.


Silence (2005)

Atop Hibernia’s green hills,

stands decaying castles.

Now as before

ravens alight,

dark and unnumbered

like the little deaths

of life.

They dreamt and dream again,

in forgotten battlefields,

above the vacant stares,

of glimpsed divinity

and the fading of memory.


From the little death of memory,

Comes growth in spirit and intellect.

To go beyond that which is merely sensory,

To find that the path is yours to select.


In the heart of all that can exist,

Beats a melody, whose change is constant.

A song with a surprising little twist,

Telling of eternity compressed into an instant.


If an entire universe can be seen,

In even the tiniest grains of sand.

Are space and time, a king and queen,

With death, but the tax of the land?


The Rush

The rush runs

through my veins

tingles my skin

raises my hair

The rush empowers

My flesh and spirit

The rush speaks

the pure truth of the heartbeat

in music and poetry

The rush fills

my soul with the might

to move mountains

The rush is

the ecstasy that connects us all

to the moment between moments

The rush reveals

the secrets underlying everything

the primal flows from the first ones

The rush hides

in the enigma of communion



(In the manner of Tadeusz Rosewitz)

A hundred thousand or more leave

everyday with barely a whimper

this world of wonder.


I choose not to fall into darkness

where the nameless torture for delight;

I will not run for the glory at the end

of that tunnel blazed in light.


I do not need or want proofreading

of my life’s enjambed lines

by some sympathetic sin editor.


I don’t plan on being a dead genius

spouting dead wisdom to future ages.


I will strive

for no ending

and no blade

flaming or not

shall stay my hand

from reaching up to pluck

a second bite.


No Yama King had better get in my way!


This is just to say

(In the manner of William Carlos Williams)

I played your Playstation 2

Lord of the Rings

The Third Age

It was fun and entertaining

But, there was a horrible accident!

I accidentally overwrote your game

I was overexcited

Having succeeded in the latest quest

Upon reaching the save point

Forgive me for my mistake


13th Street Espresso

On the patio outside

I share meaningful words.

Back and forth,

about the meaninglessness,

of it all.


Spilt Diet Coke pools on the sidewalk

while laughing girls run by.

These ingredients merge with the aroma,

enriched by a hundred blends,

of coffee and people.


On the table inside

I write meaningless words.

Left to right,

about the meaning,

of it all.


Along My Way

Words and misery drive me on

While I walk alone as my soul wears thin


I listen to a world that I don’t live in

My time moves on and my heart grows dead

While words and misery drive me on


I drag my ragged and branded self home again

My life crawls by except in my dreams in bed

While I walk alone as my soul wears thin


I gamble with the hope that someday I’ll win

My love runs past me to smile another goodbye

While words and misery drive me on


I redigest my scars as I ask myself why

My loneliness kills slower than a bullet to the head

While I walk alone as my soul wears thin


My words and misery drive me on

Along my way



Riddles abound,

teaching of the union of all.

Can you answer the riddle you are?


Be wary,

names are symbols that can betray,

and blind you to the force of change.


Names are not always as steadfast as stone,

some may consume you like the flame,

that renders the once mighty tree into ash.


Many are more mutable than a stormy wind,

blowing the seeds of new beginnings,

that give birth to new sons and daughters.


While, a few wax and wane with the tide,

following the pattern of life everlasting,

with the path shown in moonlight.


Spread your roots deep into the earth,

rise up and touch the sky,

feel the center.


Branch yourself throughout time,

too touch the fragile elegance

of a fractal nature.


Embrace the symmetry in the mystery,

that moves through the innermost,

everywhere and everywhen.


All of our worlds,

Are a grand dreaming.

Simple and beautiful.


My Left Hand

My left hand lies mellow,

unused, unchannelled, and empty,

resting on the gray plastic of the table.

The smooth skin on top of this hand,

places no contrast to the smooth veneer

of fake marble underneath.


My palm strikes the pale and plain,

empty sheet of paper.

Helping not at all

to bring the gleaming words of a poetry,

which creates the illusion of stars,

who shine bright and free.


Far above the plane,

they fly untouched by the petty and small.

Where the morass of bloody Mars lies,

and lies.


Fair Dionysus delights in the patient,

and the freedom from wrong.

In the beauty of a creature

rather than the game of who is the most strong.


What magic is dormant and latent

within that which never writes?

What secrets and sights,

are in this hand’s sinister nature?

What song is hidden and unborn

while putrefying upon this vine?

What gives or makes the right, Right?


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