City Stars


I’m in a yellow cab, staring down at my phone,
Look up at the glowing buildings, feeling so alone.
Hand against the glass, watching the rain fall,
Power off my cell so nobody can call.

Silence. Music dances on the lights on the street,
Calming my heart and denying defeat.
City stars shine through every window.
Stories behind glass that nobody will know.

Close my eyes, I don’t hear the car horns,
Like touching a rose and avoiding the thorns.
City lights casting reflection like paint,
Across every surface that’s touched by the rain.

Humming it softly, the song in my heart,
The cab stops, the driver waiting to depart.
I glance out the window. The rain beating down,
When it drips though my hair, I look around.

Let the rain fall. Let the people rush by.
I tilt back my head in a silent heart cry.
When I look up again I choose not to see scars,
Instead I will walk down the sidewalk of stars.





The Heart of Me


Quiet. So still. Just wait. Just wait.
The words come on their own.
Tentative to see, the heart of me,
And write what they’ve been shown.

Listen. The silence. It’s so beautiful.
Truths appearing. Clear, like stars.
Playing with thoughts. Emotions. Dreams.
Wondering at my scars.

Soothing. Gentle. Prodding. Searching.
The words they come to say…
What they see, in the heart of me,
Before going on their way.

The Looking Glass


How deceitful. My reflection.
My skin, the smooth complexion.
Youth is written on my heart.
One place it can’t depart.

Seasons change, my heart does not.
Breaking. Healing. Staying caught,
In the spirit of the young,
All the passions I have sung.

Years write lines across my face,
Robbing me of seemless grace.
How cold is my reflection.
These tears staining my complexion.

There is more to life than age.
More that’s written on the page.
See past this calm complexion,
To my heart and my reflections.




Born of a worn and weary heart,
Dashing poems. Jotting Lines.
As if in any part,
That would make anything fine.

Pen is scratching in dismay.
Words appearing. Disappearing.
Doesn’t matter what I say.
Just feels better, someone hearing.

Snatch the paper from the floor.
Doesn’t matter. I am writing.
Words come easy, more and more.
Feels like gliding. Less like fighting.

Calm my worn and weary heart.
Writing soothes me. Makes it right.
There is beauty in the art.
A lullaby each time I write.

Changing. Beating. Breaking.


My heart is beating. Pounding. Breaking. Shattering the ice,
That incased it, soothed it, tamed it. Taught it to play nice.
My heart is thundering, breaking free of apathy’s cold hands,
And rising with a furious passion, to claim its own demands.

My heart is kind, strong and willing, but it’s a rebel heart all the same.
Unyielding to those things that laugh, and suggest it’s just game.
Getting lost in your own thoughts, a labyrinth of false truths,
That threaten, pet and snare the hearts of old men and fiery youths.

Angry now, this gentle heart, unpredictable and wild,
Seeing pain in too many eyes, seeing as a child.
Beating. Breaking. Too much taking, in this world we own,
Rebellious, vicious, cold, malicious, are these what we condone?

Beating colder. Getting older. Time likes to sooth with ice.
Hide the pain, in the mundane, and all that will suffice.
I may not have the strength to fix all that I see wrong,
I may not have the voice to drown out such an aching song.

I may not have the power to change the world … but then again,
The world can and will see change if we change the hearts of men.
So before I let apathy take hold. soothing, lying, taking,
I’ll reach deep and let the fire ignite. Changing. Beating. Breaking.



Dark Shadows


Tiny, glistening, crystals fall, they break and coldly shine.
Stunned, cradling a fractured heart. How can this fate be mine?
Dark shadows fell. Love was not there, to heal or even see,
The deathly blows of hurt and loss my love has given me.

Kiss of pain, kiss me again, pinching out the light,
Giving me a poisoned love to hold me in the night.
Those sweet words echo to me, a different meaning there,
Scratching pain into my heart with lies and dark despair.

Precious thing like breath and life has turned to a dark lie,
Deception in the shadows, that watches as I cry.
When shadows stayed, love was not there to heal or even see,
The shadows sinister and cold, wrapping arms around me.

Day Dream

Drawing pictures in my mind. Daydreaming like a child.
Imagination soaring higher. Ideas are running wild.
Smiling at possibility. I’m so fond of golden thoughts,
That free you from reality, a place where dreams are caught.

Free from doors that always close, the “no”s and the resign.
I turn instead to reach out for, possibility and design.
Colors twirl and dance along the sunlight’s golden rays,
And battle off the crowding clouds that threaten all our days.

I twist an idea, a little string, around my finger now,
Playing with “if” and “why” like little stands. Tying a knot at “how”.
Reminding me to try it out, the first chance that I get,
And rise or fail, I’ll dream again, because I can’t forget.

I am a child in my heart. An adult in mirrors view.
An artist at my work,  where I dream and reach and do.
I look beyond what I see, for things are never as they seem.
Remembering that things can change as a result of a daydream.