Moon Angel

She flies on wings of ivory cloud,

the sun no longer gold,

within a silver amulet

upon a chain she’ll hold.

Her ebon hair now dancing

in the gentle evening air,

She sees the dreams of mortals

as she says her moonlight prayer.

There will be those she’ll cull tonight,

and those she will give dreams.

Her fingers gentle on their brows,

aglow with moonlight beams.

O come now, sweet Moon Angel

for your restless servant waits,

to once again ascend with you to

great Orion’s gates.



What Will You Show Me?

What will you show me?

“What do you see?”

Two constellations,

One you, and one me.

“What are we doing there?”

Dancing in space,

chasing the moon

in a wild, giddy race.

“What will you show me?”

What do you see?

“Us in a floating cloud,

restless and free.”

Where are we going?

“Who cares and who knows?

“We’re riding a cloud so

it’s where the wind blows!”

But all things considered

of all we can be,

I’m glad that you’re here with me

under this tree.

The Last Sunset

Do they know?

Should I tell them?

Are they worthy of the knowledge?

Am I?

I climb this tower to see what others can’t,

to feel what others won’t.

A whisper in my mind that

warmed my heart and chilled my soul

said, “This is the last one.”

I wanted to jump down, to cry out,

to warn, to incite panic that we might

save ourselves.

But the colors drew me in,

the breeze touched my face like a loving mother,

and I felt Time begin to die.

He took me from the tower as he passed,

and there would be no tomorrow, and no memory

of the last earthly glory my weary eyes witnessed

in this life.

And all the tears of the all the other watchers mingled with my own,

and together,

we put out the sun.

When Music Smiles

Your guitar

echoed over the ocean,

the melody you played

slow and beautiful,

timeless and flowing

like the small waves,

working slow magic,

only to vanish

with an essence of shore,

of time,

of us,

drawn to your music

for a brief and lively


waving farewell

in whitecap


and you opened

your eyes

to find mine,

crossing the bridge to your heart’s chorus,

singing the harmony to your life,

and composing our love,

the song

that only stops,

but never ends.


She stops

as all the other kids

run by.

She sees him in the doorway, a smile on his face,

watching them run.

She smiles at him and waves.

She runs and skips,

and he hears the scratch

of her heels on the sidewalk.

He chuckles,  remembers when

he too,

possessed that superpower.

He waves good-bye

to far more

than her fading image.

Though she doesn’t see,

he has no regrets,

and goes inside to the

ponderous ticking

of his dusty

grandfather clock.


*picture by Ethereal Mind at

Thoughts of You

Shadows on hills,

day’s end.

A persimmon sun sets

in the bosom of a verdant valley,

and the evening star stares

like a curious child at the

lone man walking the road

to darkness.

Your absence is cold space

beside me on

this solitary

twilight stroll.

I miss the glimmer

of your starry eyes.

I miss the skipped beat of your

excited heart.

I miss the anchoring tenderness

of your embrace.

I miss melting into

your kisses.

Your memory fades like a painting,

a haunting last note of a lilting melody,

a classic fallen from grace.

And once more, I’m reminded:

Love will not reciprocate what

she requires to live.




A powerful and poignant work, written by a 14 year old.

Poems and Petals

‘Neither will win’, the audience says

Now that the contest starts

For black men move without their heads

And white without their hearts.

‘And if one shall advance’, they said,

‘So much as one short pace,

His fellowmen shall shun him then

A traitor to the race’.

‘You wooden men give up the game,

For what are all these squares

But black and white and black again,

The pattern of your cares?’.

The chessmen quickened into life,

For love has conquered pride,

Those that were angry face to face

Are quiet side by side.

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