Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Untitled On Purpose: Hope and Bad Poetry

Untitled On Purpose

Gone for the holidays
Wafted away by snatches of carols
And starry, starry nights.
Lost in foil-lined wrapping paper
And gingerbread dreams.
Not I.
The carols I hear
The wrapping paper lies unwinding on the table
And the gingerbread dreams are still just dreams.
I roam in the world I created.
Looking into windows
Listening at doors
A voyeur in my own imagination
Watching the rain fall.

 December 2015


Normally I would be posting a Christmas haiku or tanka. I may yet, the day is still young or fairly so. This is what I have written though, so I am posting it.
Please note the final line. It’s been a very long time, and there are still obstacles to overcome, but I am starting to have some hope that Rain will be published in 2016. More than that I am afraid to say. Saying it aloud or definitely may jinx the whole thing. But maybe. . . just maybe. . .

Hope is curious thing, isn’t it?

Thursday, December 10, 2015


Something rare and wonderful is happening. I can't explain it fully. A dream . . . a hope appears to be coming true.


Wind howling past me
Approaching the precipice
Hoping I will fly.

Will my wings be strong enough?
No way of knowing . . . just leap.