Storm Brewing- a poem

She plucks eyelashes from

her eyes,

and a strand or two of hair.

She brews a storm,

snow flies through your

bedroom window.

The clouds,

they form

above your head

and follow you

wherever it was you went.


She brews revenge

in her cauldron.

Her blackened eyes

and her strained soul

brew a second

pot to-go.


Flower Picking- a poem

Flower picking my way

through fields painted gold

only to find old

parchment paper.


Flower picking through

pages and pages

with not a word

but eraser marks

scribbled where

the eye can hardly



Flower picking through

words and phrases

but nothing seems

to match what I feel.


Flower picking my life


hoping to find

answers between bookshelves

and old Robert Frost

poetry collections.


The Rain Came Back- a poem

I have you

to blame for the wind

hitting my window

and soon the dewdrops

would burn

my cheeks.

They say you can’t

undo the past but I’m trying

to mend my salt sprinkled wounds.


She has no reason to cry.

She has your heart.

A wounded foal

but she stands

while I’m the one stuck in the rain.


I didn’t need the rain

but it seems that it never left.


Last Words- a poem

I’ll make them quick

because it seems

to me

you don’t care

if all those

tears in my coffee

cups are yours

and you only know

how and why you made

me cry.


Though I try to hide

in the dark.

it’s your eyes that

still meet mine.

You see me out

of everyone in the


but then you

finish that song.

Your voice

never leaves my head

and I hope

these last words

echo in your mind.


I hope they echo in your mind

all throughout the night.


Autumn Leaves- a poem

When all

is dying

those autumn




my feet as

a reminder of


Of how many times

I would count

the leaves

on the trees.

How many


and how many


to hang on.

Those trees

are me.

And my thoughts

are those

autumn leaves.


The Bridge- a poem

There is a

bridge in

my mind

of where

I am

and where

I’ve been.

A cold wind

gust tries

to push

me back

to where I’ve

been but then

I see your eyes.

How sad

they would’ve been.



Today and Tomorrow- a poem

You’re predictable

you have no today

and tomorrow.

Your melodies


and my questions

left unanswered.

Where do you go

when the skies

turn to gray

and your songs


with a dull,

dud ending.

Today and


I spend thinking

when this world

you live in will