Thank You

For the sacrifices you make
For the promises you keep
For the love that you give
For a soul that runs deep

For your generosity
For all that you see
In me
In the world –
How you can always find beauty.

And because you can, I do
So for the many special gifts
And qualities that you bring,
Thank you.

Petrichor

Golden morning breaks –
New life, encapsulated
By shadows, illuminated.

You can smell the earth
So much more clearly
After rain.

A turn down
An unfamiliar lane.
A new path, hiking
Vast forests of pine –
They are breathing.
Dry needles and thistle aplenty;
Watch for the sharp
Prickles and barbs.

Leaning into the pain,
The imperfect afternoons:
Blissful at times.
Dissolving into rich
Orange hues.

A forge of blue metal
Lays cooling, tonight.
Souls clenched tight;
Entrenched, dug in.

A white flag raised –
Prematurely, perhaps…
A surrender inside
That vacant stare.

Twilight sits inside
Your sinking eyes
As I look to the sky.

The light dances lithly
Amidst the clouds,
While a solitary
church bell sings

As birds
And the horizon
Seem inextricably tied together,
Chasing that freedom together
To far away places.

I write with the hope
That these words will spring
Tendrils, climb up from seeds
That lay inside your heart.

Grow up over spaces
That have gone dry,
Turned cold.

Morphing from brown
To green,
In those neglected crevices
Of your being.

Dreams of a Forlorn Prince (Excerpt)

Where was his Queen of Hearts? He imagined what she might be like – but most of the time she felt like a dream – unattainable – just out of reach. He dreamt anyway – of this woman who loved fearlessly and without fear of rejection… a partner not haunted or forlorn with insecurities of the past.

He longed for such companionship – a woman who would permeate his world like sunlight at dawn, peaking her head in – daybreak – to remind him that beauty is always present in this world for those that choose to see it. She would be there, day after day, to remind him to be grateful for the chance to rise again with the sun. The prince grew weary of rumination, and ended with his constant refrain:

In due time, all in due time…

The Ache That Would Not Leave/Longing For

Original: The Ache That Would Not Leave by John Mark Green

(Bracketed because of minor notations/changes, a sprinkling of my own interpretations)

“Behind the hum and routine of daily living, there lay a persistent longing for something she could not easily put into words. It felt like impulsive adventures and watching the sun rise over unfamiliar mountains, or coffee in a street café, set to the background music of a foreign language. It was the smell of the ocean, with dizzying seagulls whirling in a cobalt sky; exotic foods and strange faces, in a city where no one knew her name. She wanted jokes shared at midnight, and road trips without a map, but most of all, she wished for someone who desired to explore the mysteries of the the great big world outside [their] doorstep…” – John Mark Green

City Bright Lights, Vol. 1

The Peacock Spider

The Peacock Spider…

Things Change

On any given day,
In the heat of a summer’s sway.
Things change.

That’s just how it is, right?
Nothing gold can stay.
At least, that’s what one 
Of my favorite poet’s would say.

The hair on my head.
The hair on my face.

“The Times” headlines,
My heart’s beating pace.

Sirens and loud noise
Quiet and deep space

Things change. 
Does anything truly stay the same?

The Seasons

Beneath,
Between.

Cicada
Dream.

Summer
Fall,

Winter
Spring.

The Moment You Can’t Ignore

Puzzle the black
Embrace the abyss
Become your truth
And learn to fish

To pen your thoughts
Now that is a bold-faced dream!
So grip the seasons
And welcome trades winds –
Yes, come along with me

To watch words swirl, across the world
And awaken a smile in a Parisian girl,
Then chase down a Dublin sunrise
And find their way back to a building
Nestled between Pines

Skeletal images
Turned blood and flesh
A wandering hidalgo
On a chivalric quest

A man with no name
A tiring friend
A red-haired sprite hums
Where lives never end

A song for the ages,
An immigrant sings
The flip of fresh pages,
A sorrowful king.

A ranger in a tavern
Rising from his quiet post,
Returning to his heritage
Of which he knows the most

All of these places
Faces, and things
In search of the power
Of an ancient ring

But in the end
The journey’s the prize
It wasn’t the ring that you waited for –

Three cheers for 28 years
These moments you can’t ignore.

3 Quotes For Students

“Education is the passport to the future.” – Malcolm X

“Don’t let someone else’s opinion of you become your reality.” – Les Brown

“Don’t look to others to define ‘value’. Create it for yourself.” – Ted Boughter-Dornfeld