Poems

When faced with vacuous, swollen hubris, an ancient drummer comes drumming drumbeats of cowardice; urging dignity to squawk and cower

So full of yourself: You Sir, is a boiled egg trying too hard to learn the art of arrant arrogance:

Today I paused… to acknowledge the smile of the chestnut flower to listen to the humming bird’s singing wings to

Striving, grasping, gasping for frowning air, dangled by fate’s flighty feathers; enticing wings of doomed, fortunate force: Fly, fly, I

All around me I ‘see’ squalls of chaos howling, squealing as they spin in terrifying twirls. Swirling clouds, screaming, clawing

That we rise and fall is but an illusion for in truth, we neither rise nor fall Instead, we join

“You have nothing to fear ‘cause you were not begotten: you have always been here Hence you won’t be forgotten

I used to think patience was a game of motion: slow but soon shows up if you wait with devotion.

I am the swallow, …she who’s as swift as the arrow zipping silently through the sky   I am the

There are times when cold, stony silence insists on flaunting its spoken eloquence And there are times when such insistence