Tonight, I’m wide awake
– no reason why.
But, for such reason,
I think I shall write.
That is, it’s time for
some self-therapy.
And this, I do, when
eyes are quite un-tight.
Always! I am
fighting my eyes!
For, once I choose to write,
they choose to close.
My mind loses all thoughts
most suddenly.
Well, poetry’s a lost art,
I suppose.
But practice proves to make
good sleep for me.
Tag: creative-writing
God’s Lavendar
Despite the wind,
which grows quite strong tonight,
I lay just fine inside
my cozy room,
Embracing subtle happiness,
like Spring,
Forgetting all about
the night’s shadow.
Until my eyes
cannot stay open.
I’m letting my subconscious
-ness let go.
You’re blessed if you
discover such a thing.
My soul is like a garden,
late to bloom,
Dancing with ink
againt the candlelight.
Rosebud
I guess I’m just a child
at the heart.
Still living life in
late night TV shows
Like “I Love Lucy’s”
showing before bed.
Her theme song would
have been my lullaby.
I guess I never
properly learned to cry.
And you might see
me now, I’m 35,
In happy pictures
from vacations had.
We’re all just running still
– I think it shows;
Looking to find a way
back to the start.
Foolishness
Aren’t we high above
humility?
Like: been here, done this,
done that all before.
Enraged by stooping
to stupidity.
“They have stricken me.,
and I was not sick;
they have beaten me,
and I felt it not:..
…when shall I awake?
I will seek it yet again.”
From mud or monkey,
what’s your pedigree?
Digressing through millennia,
we sore.
I press the weights
of all humanity.
Thankfulness
My routine, nightly,
is to lay in bed.
I’ll write, in leather books,
of words I hear.
And everything is
quiet, finally.
Except for when
the radiators creak.
But I’m in
my Secret place;
There’s comfort when
familiar voices speak.
And soft sheets,
perfumes of mouse Mickey.
I finally find sleep
when thoughts are clear.
And, under Eagle’s wings,
I’ll lay my head.
the fragrance writer 