Ones The Circus

I act the custodian of my heart
and not the owner –

 

Piano keys played
wooden table’s
chairs…
worn smooth
and talking crowds
at an old bar that listens –
as elephants cry,,,,,
and old toys
which, never seem to wait
nor be found
in the same place
when someone….
puts them down.

 

Because ones the circus
the other –
the clown.

Bare Threads

Worn is the tapestry
when bare threads are shown
until hands join
to embroider life
and the youth of a picture
is seen.

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I knew each breath of her
each chorus of her heart
as I stood –
wrapped in her arms….
such cherished moments
in that hallowed place –
where she took a torn heart
and with her soul…..
stitched it together
until the vibrancy
of blood flowed….
again.


 

A Silent Voice

A war of politics
and sad words –
a shotgun
pointed at the man
this dream he had
and can’t remember
his self-worth, nor birth
as he runs his mind
along the scars
connecting all the thoughts
these memories in vain.

So now, he sits and watches
as a feather
and a fleeting moment
float away
majestic in their dance
yet neither seems to fall –
but the window keeps on watching
into the widening gulf of sacrifice –
a microphone without a word
just another…. piece of steel
cold and lifeless
a silent voice –
where everyone can hear it cry….
now dead.

 

If I Died A Million Times

Soldiers march…..
then drifters fill the ranks
with smoked filled eyes of ghost.

---------------------------

If I died a million times
would I remember death
or only the time
that I stood standing
wrapped in chains –
while waiting
for the cold of morning.

If we all fell down
would we be broken
and swept away
so tradition
could hold the beams –
these houses on a hill
filled with men
brass and gold….
and hot air.

Our enemies don’t hide
they stand in bright lights
while tired soldiers
stumble by
and people shy-away –
afraid.

If I died a million times
would I remember death
or would I stand proud
in those last moments
knowing…..
that my country
stood behind me
so I could lay down
and rest.

 

Will Peace Prevail

In the last 2-months, 8 Canadian soldiers have committed suicide due to Operational Stress Injuries/PTSD.  Poetry is my outlet.

 

Life walked the corridors within her eyes
to kiss the consuming flesh of jealousy
and fill the inner void, which lurks
this emptiness of madness
1-ton of rocks on thin shoulders
and she yells at the demons
don’t wake me
as I’ll be dead
and only then
will peace
prevail.

 

 

 

Just Love

Even though her wings now clipped
she soars amongst the clouds
no pain of memories –
just love
and gentle winds.

There Sat A Quiet Soul

There sat a quiet soul
who walked the halls of reverie
in search of peace within –
painted walls of days and friends
laughter till the end –
but dark beneath the worn path
are footfalls heard…. and echoes
of a different journey
just back a ways…. around
a not forgotten bend.

There sat a quiet soul
who walked the halls of reverie
in search of peace within.