Waking

 

 

Darkness torn, the breaking dawn,

weeping down the furrowed,

face of winters curtain drawn,

dispelling ancient truths borrowed.

 

Dark raven fly, chase the night,

forgotten dreams may fade to grey,

carry sacred secrets beyond the light,

to be remembered another day.

 

 

 

Why The Words?

 

 

Life’s blood flows, from heart to virgin page of white,

This part of me I give, expose this to the light.

 

Simply words, memories folded and kept,

Draw what you will, your meaning I accept.

 

Small pieces of me, reside in rhythm and rhyme,

Excised and presented, just a little at a time.

 

On a hopeful chance that some may read,

These chosen words, then I concede.

 

That you and I will always see

The silent beauty that poetry can be.

 

Stoic.