Category Archives: Poetry

Perhaps Such Glee See Manatees

If ecstacy could languid be
In leisured measured pace,
As in a roll ‘neath lazy waves
Or torpid liquid space.

If lack of frenzy hindered not
A fervent, vivid joy,
Or hampered passions reaching high
In somnolent deploy.

Perhaps such glee see manatees
Through languid, liquid eyes
The world as vast and slower bliss
Than quicker sights apprise.

And if indulgent wisdom comes
Through pacing down our lives,
Perhaps in rest are lessons taught
Our frenzied lives deprive.

Metal Zoo

Must come a time when all we see
Is nature cast in steel?
No creatures left,
Wan zoo…bereft,
Of means to bless or heal.

A zoo without a life or soul.
A sterile, puerile space.
Stale mockery,
Pale mimicry
Of life’s abundant grace.

Perhaps we’d still post happy smiles,
Just pass another day,
Our children shriek
Amidst their bleak
Though bright facade’s decay.

I fear too late we’d mourn that choice,
Too late we’d count its cost.
We’d come to rue
Our metal zoo,
And grieve at all we’d lost.


Yes, rather a cliché s title and picture during this cicada swarm summer, but there seems little more relevant image at this moment of din outside my door.

Had I a life beyond my own,

Alternate senses, fancies grown,

I’d glimpse green leaves ‘gainst bright blue sky,

Ride wind blown twigs,

Tread currents high.

Had I daft dreams beyond cave nights,

Winsome hopes, un-sown heights,

I’d shed this skin too small to hold

Wild dreams, vast visions – rare and bold.

Had I a chance to draft new mark,

Undo dark years of burrow stark

I’d trade those years of darkened maze,

For these few brief and frenzied days.


I disregarded Eleanor,

She much regarded me,

Amidst the trope of our desire,


I dazzled her; she frazzled me,

We danced a rumba sheen.

But never found that comfort place

To right our wrongs between.

Too late, I flew a flag of truce,

Surrender in my eyes,

To find she’d fled our pied-à-terre

Defeated by our lies.

Image adapted courtesy Ailura, CC BY-SA 3.0 AT, CC BY-SA 3.0 AT, via Wikimedia Commons

Tree Ear

Tree ear listens, subtlety hears,

Furtive rustles — false dawn nears.

Rat snake’s slither,

Screech owl’s feather,

Prey-fraught field mouse fears.

Midst the silence spacing these,

Arboreal battle rare eye sees.

Push for sun and water feints,

War that no surrender taints

With efforts to appease.

Carpet moss down tree ear creeps,

Bryophyta stealthy keeps

Intentions cloaked by time and space,

Victory march at glacial pace,

Tree ear listens , nothing— sleeps.

To Weep, Perchance to Dream

If non-primates set their marks upon this world,

Their views, their memes, their sins.

Would they a lady’s slipper see,

Or different worlds within?

Perhaps instead, a feline grace,

A fleeting hippo muse,

A mantid’s dream,

Archaean’s space,

A raptor’s edge-sharp hues.

But in their darkest dreams and fears,

In their most dismal hours,

I fear they see a primate face

And feel a primate’s power…

Earth Husk

Abandoned shell,

Earth dreams left burrowed deep behind.

Coupling song midst brood-world trees,

Mortal sirens the far beckoning stars…

Here in the Smoky Mountains cicada Brood X is prepped to shatter our evening quiet once again.

Courtesy US Forest Service