Showing posts from June, 2011

Ghost Train

**This is a story in a poem using one syllable words.

Far from here
in a black coal car
a sense of true
got shot and scarred.
It jumped real quick
and as it flew
It struck an oak, stout and new.

It glared back wise
with gold owl eyes.

Its heart
dripped thick
on an old black crow
that sliced his neck with coarse cruel blows.
The crow’s shrill beak
cut nose and cheek
the blood then hissed
and hit the street.
It scowled and bared its blood red teeth.

A street lamp blinked
It could not sleep
nor get that thief
to change his leaf.

his thumb
shrieked hot lead
it found its mark
trained for dead. The blast came fast
sharp as an axe
and chopped a clock
that ticked and tocked.

I hugged the frame
and the glass
in hope,
since two
my fears would pass.
Still dazed
I traced
his ash gray face,
that shot an F
through a coach seat base.

A rock hard sneer
trapped in a frame,
this ghost
still drives
the night sick train.

Camel Dung

Fresh camel dung the curse of the lower Nile
attracting a multitude of flies high above
decomposing mummies
buried in forgotten pyramids
beneath the sands of time
deep inside secret chambers
stacked with gold
foraged from the influence
of unknown origin
of which countless markers
have been left behind
flies being the common denominator.
If the ignoble fly had been in charge
how might he have managed?
Would ancient insects have done a better job
at keeping quotas and curbing bad behavior?
Who would’ve done the heavy lifting?

The chosen people were dropping like flies. There had to be a back-up.
Someone must’ve had a plan.

Why were the pyramids so big? Are they entrances to another time

Or a door into our own psyche? Are WE the alien life form
on this hostile planet?

What have we learned?
What legacy will we leave for our children our children’s children?

What time capsule will they discover? Will it hold the key
to the age old question
Or merely pose new questions?
Will we survive
on this planet of dwin…

An Amazing Animal

Godsend defers tweets to higher power.
Godsend; keeps word, gives fresh perspective.


I Am Me

I am me
the reflection staring back from the glass
the half full cup
the dark chocolate freak
sometime friend to a certain scale.

I learn in the face of challenge
that my obscurity may be a good thing
that as I trip and fall
no one will see
or care.

I am a notion
a shadow
a spot on the frame
moving past old beliefs.

Becoming new.

Sometimes haunted

I existed before to fill your square pegs
round spaces

I persist to soulfully
in the dark
without a key
without a pigs chance in hell
that you will understand my need.

I am a rogue wave
a rushing tide
a rare
a thinking stone
passionately pulled
occasionally moved.

Mixing and mashing theories
flicking hard-nosed butts

against a blue-green world

of melting ice
smoking pillars and
smashed stones.
I am me

a miracle

to those
that bore me
with nothing
but a seed to plant
nothing but hopes and dreams.

I am much more than your
much more than a pulsing frame
wary heart
weak organs

Cloud Concerto

In this open air venue

floating nymphs
stitch their serenity
free of charge.

A child is stilled
comforted by their play
counting their fluffy leaps
over misty fences
by the scope of their splendor.

Angelic arms wrap
emerald peaks
exhaling excited vapor
as the spotlight shines
on tonight’s premier
fine art and composition
to the cultured audience
who clap and cheer
recognizing the
bird song prelude
and butterfly solo symphony.

Appeal for Book Reviews on Amazon

Thank you in advance for purchasing my book, Letters to a Prisoner.  I'm looking for reviews on Amazon. A previous version of this book was endorsed by Al-Anon. It contained exerpts from Al-Anon's Blueprint For Progress. I decided to go ahead and publish without those exerpts. It is currently required reading at Habilitat-The Place of Change, a drug rehab in Kaneohe Hawaii. Here's the link for your convenience:

Father's Day Story--Published!

My story, "Clean Sweep" has been selected as "Today's 'Dad & I' Story" for

As you might know, we allow visitors to critique stories once they've been posted. If you'd like to follow in on any critiques our readers choose to make, you can do so at

Mastiff Manners

They begin pristine  in their precise composition like two dancers center stage their muscled torsos strutting and swaying in perfect rhythm. Rocketing limbs splayed as they spiral down landing abruptly into the mud coating every square inch as if it were a precious salve from the Dead Sea. Sliding and rolling across the wet terrain eight large paws leave no stone unturned no blade of grass still, no fruit untried. A rushing river hangs back as they race by two competitors colliding into a break dance of epic proportion.
YOUR SEASON IS AT HAND." Choose with care. Sharpen your wits. It will suit you to study carefully, the mastiff manual. They are untroubled by your crow and your claws. They will smell your green goo as it drips off the edge of a palm frond overlooking the pond’s edge. Squash that splash! Hide your red-orange flash and fan-tails. Their hunger is fierce. They will excrete your squirming mass swallowed whole next to the chirping peep fins, feathers and entrails laced with reckless d…

My Personal Art Gallery

Ruth's Pacu Fish


Honorable Mention in Poetry at 2011 New York Book Festival

2011 New York Book Festival.  I received an Honorable Mention in Poetry for my self-published book, "Letters to a Prisoner"

Please visit our web site at for the complete results.