Sunday, February 11, 2018

The Grandfather Clock

the sound amid silence
the forlorn grandfather clock
its pendulum a metronome for life
chiming it away with each hour

the dead of night
time seemingly stands still
memories over spill
like a boiling pot
persistent as the ticking clock

The mind darkens
thoughts swinging to and fro
like the pendulum, tick-tock
mimicking the beating heart:
lub-dub, lub-dub

each sound marking the passage
of a life passing by;
lub-dub, lub-dub
mimicking the pendulum;
tick-tock, tick-tock

the grandfather signals mortality
is the stark reality
each tick and haunting tock
is a chink of life ebbing away:
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

Poetry in Motion

galloping horses along the shore
breaking waves crashing galore
splashes, droplets, falling
absorbed without sound

a surfer catching the last wave
riding, gliding through the tube
crouching, twistin' and turnin'
later enveloped by the sea

a lone runner warmed by a low sun
engaged in a dance through sand dunes
at one with the trail
much like the surfer in the wave

a sensory sonnet of the sea
felt by an audience of me

Photo by Karen Bayley-Ewell, Wilderness, South Africa

Sunday, September 17, 2017


haunting howling wind
comforting -- while inside

haunting howling wind
scary -- while outside

haunting howling wind
who are you?
you surprise me
on top of a hill
when below -- you were still

haunting howling wind
you rattle windows
slam doors
stir trees
you alarm me!

haunting howling wind
on a cold stormy night
you warm me
while next to a fire

howl wind, howl

Ode to Doc Marten's

Boots Galore
in this massive store!

boots reaching up to thighs
leaving little more to hide

boots ready to climb mountains high
reaching forever to a faraway sky

boots made of solid leather
ready to walk in all weather

On motorbikes roaring far and wide
Harley's boots ain't bad on a ride

But Doc Marten's are the best!
Putting designs to the test

Something about them that go willingly
with anything you damn well please!

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Nuts in May

Ah spring sun!
ready to run!

winter is over
rain has gone

windows open
doors unlock

ominous grey
to azure blue

spirits lift
like morning dew

a sea of dark
turns an ocean of color

flowers blooming
bunnies grooming

California poppies
fill the scene

blue waters fill the bay
white horses sparkle away

nothing like May to put
the wind in your sail

long shadows
grace the trails

maybe it's nuts
to run while it's hot

then again, may be not

maybe it's time
to go nuts in May

time to run?
"you must be nuts," they say!

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Opera Night

a wide brim ruby red hat
black trim compliments
a long black
backless dress

possibly cashmere?

she smiles looking down
a pair of pointed mottled boots
peek from below the dress

period 40s?

the red hat
leather red jacket
perfectly match

the hat rests at her side

small rhinestones decorate
black opera gloves
clutching a glimmering red purse

the light dims

the lady sits and waits
it's warm
she sheds the red
revealing red beads

she looks right and smiles
red ruby lips,
"Good evening"

The curtains open
ruby red fades to black
Opera night begins

Photo credit: Opening Night at the Paris Opera

Saturday, March 18, 2017


foreboding sky
making her shy
an inner voice exclaims, "I don't want to run in this!"
the bus stops
she finds the trail

green lushness stops her in her
already sodden tracks

deeper in this green world
she begins to see raindrops bounce off leaves
and even her nose

she absorbs this wet world
embracing the sensations it offers
she stops again to examine the drops
suspended on a clover - perfect little orbs

she wonders...
if it wasn't for the weather, they might have been tears
the tears of a jilted lover pining for past and lost years

she moves on -- thankful for the raindrops