...be the candle or the mirror that reflects it

She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i the bud, feed on her damask cheek, she pin'd in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like patience on a monument, smiling at grief.

My Photo
Name:
Location: New Orleans, Louisiana, United States

Thursday, March 01, 2012

Reinvigorate

Reinvigorate.
Cannonball jump in the pond,
during a warm rain.

Loves Gaze

My look brings goosebumps.
Dragonflies skim the water,
fish mouths poke from below.

Monday, October 11, 2010

On Inspiration

What inspiration?
Truth be told nothing moves me,
Wind blows but the leaves are still.

It's how I feel at time. Things that should move me have no effect. Truth be told, my emotions these days run just beneath the surface. I maintain a cool calm demeanor, anything though can elicit a reaction. A shower of tears will run as if unbidden with no hope of stopping. Just give me a few moments, like an Illinois thunderstorm, the waterworks will trickle to a stop. A few moments more and there won't be any clue to the clouds passing save a damp sidewalk.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

The Wall

The writing is on the wall
I asked the question,
You gave the answer.

So I wrote this haiku yesterday. It's actually been brewing in my head a couple days. It's in response to a comment left on my Facebook Wall and kind of solidifies the other haiku - Leaves. The kewl thing about this was I didn't have to edit it at all. I wrote it and all the syllables fell into place. It needed to be read and so needed to be said.

Green Nonetheless

Leaves turn in the cold
Seeing past the rain, the sun
Will shine on green trees.

Cold as hell today I had to go back home and get my hoodie but I trust the trees know something I don't.

Faded

Your voice has faded
Nothing more than a whisper,
Leaves on the river

My thoughts on friends who come and go in life. The river flows as always, as does life. The image of these tiny leaves afloat on the river is significant. Like so many people in life the river takes them away, either through death or perhaps their season in my life is over. Not to be saddened by this, the river eventually takes us all to the same place.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Red and Brown Line Construction

Water through dry rocks
Your passage is halted much,
Soon you will flow fast.

Dancers

Movement of the arm
Bends as a stiff bare tree branch,
Yet still as graceful.

Eight Belles

Crashing through the waves
Fallen filly with great heart
You're the winning one