when i left home,
             landed in Europe.
no apron strings, 
or room for judging others.

things changed that year.
though mostly,
i was the one 
who changed.

landing upright,
i learned 
change wasn't all bad,
and the future 
holds more hope than fear.

Change, good or bad, planned or unexpected ~ is just around the corner.
                Join dVerse poets on changing poetry as we enter 2013.


like the reverberating strings
housed in the warm belly of a grand,
my heart comes to life with
each turn of the melody
and new verse this song
life brings


your first gurgling notes
the metallic clang of the bat
screeching bike tires
pencil chewing growls

notes at times monumental
and if i'm honest
at times monotonous

notes of an precious life
a song cut short
I miss you in every silent space
I will never stop humming your song


in the midst of chaos, worry, life
joy bubbled forth, a gratuitous bloom.
its fragrant offering reminding her;
life is indeed good!

a dVerse reflection of spontaneous poetry
   for those inclined to creatively record
      the wonders of life on this bouncing ball


they shouted till their breath ran dry
cheering on their team
calling out strategic plays
from the sidelines

they were not simply spectators
they were sponsors, endorsers,
team advocates and fans
they wore the colors, talked the talk
and of equal importance,
they walked the walk

 up early, in line, banners in hand
they put their money where their mouth was
they didn't leave at half-time
or the seventh inning stretch

valuable contributors to the game
these citizens marked their ballots
and waited with baited breath
each side convinced,
they held the winning combination

 It's election night, and we're contributing our voices at dVerse


borrowing a line for Monday's poetry prompt
"sighing hush hush under welted clouds"

he and she in the early dusk
backs pressed against the damp grass
whispering and sighing, building a future in the sky
hush hush, under welted clouds


flecks of afternoon sun danced
across her forehead
the hood of the car
the windows rolled down recklessly
taking in autumn air as the cares of
the day rolled away with each leaf
skittering across the road


knees sunk in damp soil
her eyes sought the tangerine horizon
for his silhouette, the frame she
had leaned on so many times before
to get her through the long
and dark night


The knife digging in her side caused less
and less pain as she learned to live with
its blade buried deep within her ribs. 
And lately she had even discovered she
has been seeing things a little differently, now
that she has gotten in the habit of moving much
more slowly, purposely, in an effort to keep
this wound from growing deeper. 
Strange how these things work out in 
the most unexpected of ways. 


She lingers over delicate cups of rich espresso
loose tendrils dancing over her bird like clavical.
Pale silk clings to her figure. A shadow behind
the chiffon panels of early dawn. Defining Paris.

Alica Bock frames Paris so well!


Shoes untied, laces fly
with the reckless abandon
best understood by barefeet
in loose summer shoes
and innocent hearts
chasing clouds, bubbles,
and dreams.

Whether it's because they've
never been told they can't
or because they've decided
just not to listen;
I'm not sure it matters.
So I'm loosening my laces
right now.


deep darkness so still you could hear
your heart in your ears pounding relentlessly
a rhythm soon met with the melody of 
crickets and bright stars and the solemn
movement of the wind through the trees, then 
the beat of an owl's wings and, suddenly the
backyard seemed so much larger than it had
in the hours before dusk had fallen

a reflection on my childhood backyard in response to today's prompt at dVerse


A leaky faucet was drip, drip, dripping  
in the next room,
and somewhere down the hall 
a deadbolt latch clunked.
But there was not much to hear here
alone in this empty room 
where even her thoughts refused to speak
for fear of breaking the near silence 
that was becoming almost sacred now.
Just outside the window the compressor clicked on 
and soon
she would be joined by a gust of fresh air .



She danced in the afternoon sunlight, on tiptoes, in slow circles to the delicate notes drifting from the small carved  music box. Across a sea of broken glass she moved gracefully, the sun catching in glints against each shiny surface and sharp edge. Watching her dark lashes closed against Georgia sun-ripened cheeks, there was no evidence of the jagged stage on which she performed.



This poem is dedicated to the faithful friends who so regularly visit this blog and leave encouraging glints of gold among my work. Your heart, your words, and your presence are immeasurably valuable to me. 
Thank you.


i wished i was a bird
free to fly, not restrained by
boundaries that kept me from you
so that i could wake you each morning
with the notes of my lilting song
that i could cover you with my wings
that i could watch over your sleep
from a swaying branch above your head


icy waters rushing up and over me
you halt my breath
slow my heart
and succumb me to
a power stronger than life
for you love me
even unto death


her face reflected in the glass exhibit case
topped a green velvet dress 
with a cinched 18" waist, 
so unlike the size 18 frame that
trapped her body 
though not her imagination
and even if only for the briefest moment
she too... was "Gone with the Wind."

dVerse is people watching today, and so was I at the "Gone with the Wind" exhibit at the Museum of History. 


crisp pink slipper apples fall into
cinnamon warm aroma rising from
ceramic mugs warming my hands my
heart chilled by Autumn's kaleidoscope of
colors swirling around me, brushing the
bricks beneath my feet hold memories and
embrace the mystery of seasons gone, to come


black and white and black and white
he moved between these two shades
with the ease and slight of hand of
a magician, he cast spells on her
every time he played, he played her
heart. a relentless song she prayed
would never end


crickets, fireflies, and the sun are fading
conceding summer's end
still these sticky fingers, and the sweat above my lip
cling to the promises of Ferris wheels and caramel apples
and I know that the fun has only just begun!

an end of summer herald for open link night at dVerse


carefree showers beckon from the edge of the porch
against black skies of rolling thunder i consider
the dance of the storm, the puddles splashing
beneath her skirt, and her rhythm. i am lulled to rest


Juniper spirit, 
Campari, Cocchi on ice
cocktail for a count 


The early evening dew 
crept up blades of grass 
and crawled across the rock wall 
beneath me as I waited. I waited 
for what seemed hours 
with breath short in my chest, 
rustling the autumn leaves above 
with each respiration. 
The moon 
peered low beneath wisps of clouds 
waiting as well to see if you'd really come. 
Though at your silhouette's promenade 
I'm certain, 
the stars began to shine, 
for the first time. 


hands bare and knuckles raw he refused to rest
until each supporting beam was secure, offering
a shelter for the innocent hearts he cherished


(Stuff & Matter)

no matter how much time she
devoted to putting all the
important stuff into her mind for
future reference and citation,
she was always finding more
matters of interest that she
simply couldn't do without

(Stuff & Matter)
A painting by Borgeous


honey lemon sunset fading into violet
i submit
to your wooing charms
draw me in your arms
away from the weary burdens that
threaten these shoulders and brows
i welcome
these quiet moments


shadowed times

they were shadowed times
displaced by a wall of flames
and its shroud of thick clouds
when soot inhabited my abode
and my domain was ephemeral
at best.


with a sure hand he made unhesitating
strokes, his brush casting bold, resolute
colors in acrylic. and i knew at once
that i would give anything this world had
to offer just to find my place on his canvas
amid such verdant shades of certainty.



dwarfed beneath the violent whirring
of the cicadas buzzing in the trees
silhouettes flying overhead against
the mandarin sunset in tandem with
the Nuthatch's two-noted squeak
i am left spinning in the shadows

Claudia over at dVerse has challenged us to make quick strokes of the world around us, to capture light & emotion. Here's my eve on the patio.


wide eyed

what were you doing?
while your dreams
danced recklessly through
your life and you
sat and watched
frozen in fear
wide eyed with wonder?


morning shave

silent shadows move across the wall
keeping time with the rhythmic swishing
of the badger hair brush, foaming shave
cream in a palmed ceramic mug. the
warm scent of sandalwood lingers long
after his straight razor is rinsed and
his morning ritual complete.


the flower

The sidewalk was barren, cracked,
concrete forgotten by time. Yet in
the shade of a tree, near a rust
stained edge, a negligible sprout broke
through, her cotyledon unfurling on a
delicate stem.

Seemingly similar to the weeds that grew
along the ragged and worn edge of the path,
she was overlooked at first. Though as she
grew in stature and stance, the shoot
garnered more than a passing glance.

One leaf, then two, the seedling showed
determination despite her unlikely
location. Pedestrians took notice now, in
wonder of her life. Uncertain how she arrived
they presumed she would find the strength
to survive. And so she did.

In time a bud emerged among the petiole,
burgeoning forth with unexpected force.
in parallel symphony, the roots urged back
the failing conglomerate walkway, and the
rich soil in which she was rooted was revealed.

This story isn’t over, her blossom is only now
dawning. Yet for this flower growing in the
crack of the sidewalk, there is hope in fertile
soil at my feet. 

Brian Miller challenged us to wax poetic about history, our own or otherwise this week at dVerse
"A flower in the crack of a sidewalk," is a phrase a dear friend has used to describe the peculiarity of my life story, one that I've attempted to surmise in this stanzas above. Enjoy!



muddled at the bottom of a copper cup
beneath crushed ice, bourbon splashed
lubricant to the Derby, and countless
other Kentucky summer nights


gray strands of cigar smoke
swirled over our heads
as we sat beneath the dark sky
on a warm summer's night

swirled over our heads
lingering in lazy circles
on a warm summer's night
amid our patio garden

lingering in lazy circles
fireflies romanced, flickering dance
amid our patio garden
hypnotizing our hearts

fireflies romanced, flickering dance
and you exhaled another wispy trail
hypnotizing our hearts
with carefully rolled Connecticut leaves

an excersize in pantoum, best explained by Samuel Peralta over at dVerse



at his prompting i did
i looked down at my own fingertips
and found
just me
and that is exactly all he said
i would ever need to be



sometimes the sobs that roll from this chest don't
originate in pain or grief, but rather express the
waves of relief washing over me drowning me
in sweet abandonment, oceans of peace;
and i choose to let go and float along

sometimes just turning up the stereo and letting
myself drown, lost in the mesmerizing beats and
hypnotizing rhythm is all i need to get me over the
mountain that has blacked out my horizon. here i
find the sunrise, the hope, the tomorrow i've been
promised. these notes my buoyancy, my stead.


Watercolors spilled out,
washing the pale canvas
with unanticipated hues.
Bristles lazily strayed through
streams of ermine, citron topaz
and a splash of cobalt:
a rainbow
lost on this horizontal plain.


from the rough hematite rich sediments of this earth
you drew forth ironstone mineral dense and ready
to give at the smelting, but you saved it, savored it,
hung it from the very beams that would surround you.
this jersey ironstone home still testifies of your
homespun affection for it's silicate opulent composite.

(Batsto Village New Jersey)


ebony beans spilled into the grinder
offered up a thick dark aroma
as the gears spun
bringing Ethiopia's natural abundance
one step closer to my prescripted dose
of the oil topped elixir so necessary to
socially acceptable A.M. interactions



The night is still as bright cricket chirps sing over the steady hum of the cicadas and the reverberating bullfrog's moan. Fireflies fade deeper into the thick woods leaving haloed shadows of themselves amid the tall grass from  which they've escaped.  The night is still.


Musca domestica

Musca domestica, you confidently surveyed
the kitchen scene. Brazenly circling my cranium. 
Hadn't you even considered your own days, limited
though they may be. Why not spread your thorax, 
your wings, your arista in the wide open world beyond
these quarters? Why taunt me and fate, and the whip
of the tea towel spinning now hurtling with unhesitating
force; it brought you down. Compound eyes compounded.
You lost your flight, tibia, femur, tarsus crushed!


Tibetan prayer flags swung wildly as
her mud stained Lincoln bounced in and out of
pot holes, escaping its lane from time to time.
Peace symbols and coexist stickers clung
to the dented bumper and her head bobbed
along in perfect peace, unaware of the chaos
she brought between the dotted lines of our lives.



footprints leave behind so much
evidence, such undeniable proof

solo impressions for so long. your world as
simple and carefree as the path you chose.

paired in time with stronger, broader, steadier
steps, not a hindrance, but a helper for life.

the delicate trace of smaller feet join now, part yours
part his. promises kept, dreams come true.


gathering souls

She captured the souls of
snakes and squirrels and
slugs she said, their soul is
in their eyes. It was her daily
morning worship; gathering the
souls of small critters who had
ventured into her backyard
sanctuary. She collected their
sacrifices with a sole finger,
aperture after clicking aperture.


Bastille Day

I traveled the world and found you
standing on a bridge crossing international
waters, your foreign language so liquid, like
waves passionately cast against stone pillars
we knew each other briefly, intensely, saturated
I returned home yet your flavor never left my



Shades of umber and sand shifting
seamlessly up the trunk of Crepe Myrtle.
Witty lyrics that catch in my ear,
and then my heart.
These are more than just words.
This is poetry.


We'll miss you Andy, in Mayberry and all our favorite Carolina haunts
We know you lived quite a few days, but we're still sad you rushed away

We loved all the new places you took us, and the places we'd been
a hundred times before. You made us feel at home, just like lemonade.

So go ahead and rest your bones, we'll find shade and skippin' stones,

We'll take down our fishin' poles and whistle to The Fishin' Hole,
I can't think of a better way to pass the time o' day.

In honor of Andy Griffith, inspired by the Andy Griffith Show Theme Song


buttery rays of morning's sunlight playfully
brush sheer drapes across the light washed
window panes and tease corners of the bed
sheets, sunk into cool cotton i am unmoved


click, snap, release clasp
the latch opened and i sprung loose;
bursting forward with the anticipation
of a future fresh and promising and
all the hope that nearly a lifetime
of waiting had pent up. fermented in
the waiting, powered with effervescent
energy, the wind rushing by, the bright
sky above held no fear. dreams realize.

pushing buttons at dVerse, and finding poetry!


an empty vessel, poured out
empty without your love here
vessel, your love could fill
poured love could comfort me
out here, fill me again

a real challenge in form from dVerse, a square poem read the same vertically as horizontally



on beams worn smooth by summer bare feet; 
i inhale the warm sun-kissed scent of your skin.
eyes closed; smile pulled wide, the refreshing
call of the lake's fingers lapping at the dock pilings,
can't draw me away from this moment with you.

(Lake Gaston, NC)
musical inspiration - Summer Skin by: Death Cab for Cuties


Clank-Clang-Rill sets the rhythm as father and son grunt and breath sweat and grease  beneath the dusty beams of this third  generation garage. Here metric wrenches, oil viscosity, and patience in the practice were passed on; family heirlooms never undervalued.


they rolled the windows down and  allowed the late afternoon to breathe over them; bringing them closer to  each other, the moon hung from a string,  and the desires of good men everywhere. Inspired by Amos Lee's Windows Are Rolled Down 


nestled against tufted velvet benches, we
rock to the rhythm of the engine's pull on 
our car as it glides along the tracks, the 
sun tracing golden fingertips across
glowing mahogany and polished brass
the landscape blurs past, framed in coal black
smoke and the wail of the steam whistle

setting the scene at dVerse


wavering lines of heat interrupt
the otherwise flat horizon of
the dusty red dessert floor and
as far as the eye can see, she is
alone, parched and brittle under
the unrelenting cloudless sky


range of vision closes, losing sight
expiring oxygen, loss of breath
light-headed dizziness
in love

At dVerse, we're reading Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 & comparing loves to a summer day...or drowning


they considered her much like a rubber band
able to bend, stretch, and flex with little effort
as the situation demanded, holding things together
when others were prone to disarray, that is
until the day she snapped!


over at dVerse, we're talking of exile, in literature and life.
Since death is an exile from those we love, 
here's a dedication to the life of one well loved.

the rising sun brought light, stole life
too early for you, too soon from us
exiled from this world you left
shadows across our hearts, and
no matter how hard she tries
the sun, can never fill your void


Beneath dusky starlit summer skies
Hands grasp, one another
Wheeling, whirling, swinging and singing
To the strum of a banjo and its crooner
In the distance mason jars clink
This is how the South marries off her young

Inspired by OARs Heaven


girls cast low whispers
wishing for men who would
fit their curves, and their hearts

whispers rise to a song of
desire and hope, and a need for
strong arms to hold future nests

for sometimes even the lack
of rain is enough to cast lightening
across a dry and charged land

Inspired by dVerse's Triverson challenge & Snow Patrol's New York

her voice carried crystal clear
haunting the empty rooms long after
she was gone and the only sound
lingering on was the cascade of ivory
and ebony, and acoustic strings, ghosts
moving about in dusky shadows of
the now blue black rooms bathed in
moonlight, and the sound of her voice

Inspired by Norah Jones' December 



they say there's a pot of gold at the end
of every shimmering rainbow, and I'm
inclined to believe there's truth in that tale
since I met my one true love, on St. Pat's


Inspired by today's dVerse open mic featuring Emily Dickinson,
I've used her first line, and a/b/c/b quatrain format

The day came slow -- till Five o'clock --
When they let me out the door
By then I'd had enough of work
And dashed -- for want of more

I escaped outside -- to the garden's cover
And fragrant blooms amid the shade
Where far away from the day's toils
I decided to linger and stay

"go fish"

"go fish," once reserved for a
playful game of cards now
describes the struggle of this
unemployed man down on his luck
and lacking the pairing of skills now needed
to win in this game of life
and so he doesn't

"go fish," no longer the simple
call in a childish game of cards
it is now his heart's cry
every Friday afternoon
when the quitting bell rings
and so he does

"go fish," pudgy fingers claw
at the stack of cards stacked at
the center of the table and as
he watches his boys go at their game
his heart bursts with thanks to God
and so he did


a wave of laughter rolled over
us, unabashed and a little too
and from that moment on 
it was all i wanted to be
when i grow up



teach me to dance
the way you dance
with feet shuffling
lips soft, broad hands
tender heart and steps,
rocking me in your rhythm,
teach me to dance


lost in the deep shadows his hat
carved across his face, like a
far off land she had meant to
run away to
and live on papaya and coconut
and fresh water that gushed
from where the hot sand met
the deep shadows


"what do you do?"
she asked him
"when the music keeps playing but you've
forgotten all the steps and you
don't remember anyone's name?"
and his silence
made her worry
all the more


sometimes this air is so thick
saturated in heritage
decades of legacies
that i am compelled to exhale
the very depths of my lungs
that i might leave an inheritance
for future generations


occupation! He spit the word out like it was a curse, grown bitter from the grind of his labor.


Shards of notes
brought a crescendo, 
loosing these emotions.

This poem for dVerse, was to attempt to write a poem following form, yet with the feeling of free verse. 
My offering is a Fibonacci poem, founded by Gregory K. Pincus.
1 syllable for the first line
1 syllable for the second line
2 syllables for the third line
3 syllables for the fourth line
5 syllables for the sixth line


bolstered under your strong arch
i find shelter, safety, and no shortage of sunshine

Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


Oh, you're here..it's just as well I suppose.

i sat down this evening with great ambition to write
you a datum complete with the many magnificent sites
and tremendous adventures i've devoured upon my arrival

yet as I lifted my pen, all i could recall, was

the way the afternoon breeze brushed ripples on the water,
and the sun dropped lemony yellow dots across it's surface,
and how much they spoke, of the way you consummate me

Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.
The reflective prompt came from  http://dversepoets.com/ open link night!


Across these waters, the dreams
of a hundred hearts have been hopefully cast.
Gliding beneath the clear night of the moon they
find that the pilings of many a yesteryear,
safely secure them and ensure that they 
do not drift too far away.

Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


across the expanse,
between where we've been
and where we've yet to be,
i find your arms strong and supportive
stretching across the unknown
understanding and completely welcoming
and i am so much less afraid
Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


your polished gleam, and innocence at heart
had me waiting with baited breath for you to come my way
and when i finally sunk my teeth into you, i discovered
you were slow to let go, your sweetness stuck
and i would not soon escape
this intoxicating romance
Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.
The sweet prompt came from  http://dversepoets.com/ "fair" challenge!

you are the rhythm driving to the center of my soul 
finding all that is dark and strong, and misunderstood
swallowing me whole, 
you are the night, my velvet bed 
i am your star, you let me shine
Photo inspiration from Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


adrift on this cool lake i am lost
to the demands of a world so foreign
to this space, that i've forgotten from whence
i came
should you recall
please do me the kindness of casting that recollection
into the cool steam waters,
meandering beneath the branches
now seeping between my toes

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


tonight i captured the stars
and all their warmth and
the light from a summer spent with you
and gathered them all up for safe keeping
and now I'm just sitting here wondering how long
i can hold on before i just give in and  
pour them all out so we can 
live everyone of these moments all over again!!

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


wholesome you called me
your mouth so round
I wanted to slip slivers of my tender fruit
between your lips, offering crisp juices
and honeyed sweet aroma
but you just closed your eyes
and swallowed me whole
Photo Inspiration found at -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.

Linking today's poem to dVerse's open link night (http://dversepoets.com).  Interpretations and feedback welcome! 


angular digits scratch at the sky
reaching futilely into the bare space for something
to remind them of brighter spring days
filled with our laughter, and dreams, and talk of a future
but they like me, are empty and alone
and suddenly this courtyard is so much colder than i remember

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


should you find yourself on an empty afternoon,
beneath a breathless sky,  longing to fall
under a spell; meet me in the garden
heady with blossom laden branches
and the enchanting
notes of my unending melody of love

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


she lifted photo after photo of places she'd never been
telling stories of people she never met
and yet we believed every word
because somehow we always knew
someday, she would

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.

she had invisible powers of beauty that were always
making deep impressions without ever leaving a mark

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


The early spring rain is tracing her fingertips down the glass again.
But she cannot steal me away from this moment with you, 
your intoxicating presence permeating my every pore. 

She pours now, competing for my gaze, my breath. 
You already stole that from her, from me. 
Sinking your roots into my depths, warm, nurturing, and ready for life. 
I have no choice but to give myself over to you.

I abide now here in your shadow, desiring little more than to lay myself bare 
beneath your strength, your aroma, your stamen. 
Though the rain casts herself against the panes, I am already saturated
with you.
Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


your breath caught in my throat
the morning mist deep within the valley
and i ached for you to stay, 
but the dawning sun
stole you away

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


somewhere between 8 and 9 and
yours and mine, 
and staying on our side of the line
i guess somewhere we grew up, 
as we play those games less and less
but if you want to jump in puddles
just one more time
i'm pretty sure, i still remember just how it's done!

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


from the hot afternoon sun we hid
under a canopy of trees
upon a bed of pine straw
and velvety cool moss
specks of gold shimmered through
brushing your skin, flirting with my hair

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


reflecting blue skies,  rose quartz, an aquatic veil
she stumbled toward the shore spilling diamonds as she fell
crashing to my feet, her beauty memorizing
i have never been more dazzlingly adorned

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.
because being alone doesn't always mean
being lonely and blue isn't always
a mood, sometimes it's just the deep
backdrop against which the sun and the waves
and all of your dreams dance against
while you stand alone

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.

lungs filled with air
heart filled with hope
blowing seeds into the wind
casting wishes with all my might
praying they'll take root, 
and bloom before summer's end

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


for all those days i acted silly
chased foolish dreams, talked your ear off,
embarrassed you in public, exhausted you in private
and for all the days i still do
yet you still believe in me

Happy Mother's Day!

Memories captured, stories told -  Alicia Bock Photography http:www.alicia-bock.com.


once a ship lost to the sea,
my vision blurred, you drew me in
your soul a beacon piercing through the mire
you were my lighthouse, 
beacon of hope 

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


your love tethered me here
among drops of hope, and rays
of forever, and its possibilities
and i dreamed away afternoons
counting lilies, and their reflections in 
the waters that buoyed me from beneath 

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


pressed into the delicate intoxicating brush
of your touch, your aroma, and the way you
sway when you move
drunk with fragrance, rhythm and magenta promises, 
i climb your promises with my 
eyes, my hands 

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


The wind in the sails carried us along, 
beyond our daily adventures to storied lands of long ago.
Rocked by the rhythm of the sea,
 and the low hum of the narrator's serenade,
we drifted over the deep horizon of our imaginations.

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com
secretly suspicious that she's been seizing slices of summer
and slipping away to soak in the shimmering sunshine

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. 
Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


summer was wrapped in coils
of yellow and white, and wrought iron chairs
and all the intoxicating reasons that we
couldn't be anywhere else but right there
soaking up the sun and it's buttery warmth
and a summer that would never return

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography.
Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com

Scraped palms, skinned knees,
these cuts seem to grow deeper as
i grow older, yet i am no stronger.
Please hold me close, and wipe away
the pain that comes from these
cuts, these bruises, these

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. 
Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com


years of memories stacked in
dishes glazed yellow and cobalt blue,
their smooth curves captured
late night conversations,
more than our share of tears,
and the heat of a romance that
lit our worlds on fire

Today's poem inspired by Alicia Bock Photography. Find your inspiration at http:www.alicia-bock.com