I would sketch you with a stylus
your graceful curving lines
running through a new mowed field
bordered by blooming multiflora vines

Or maybe I should sculpt your form
in some type of classic pose
carved in clay or wood or stone
with the merest hint of clothes

Perhaps a water color painting
in impressionistic style
all pastel with blended edges
to best capture that fleeting smile

As I watch you my sweet Ma Ma sleeping in your bed,
so many old memories start flowing through my head.

Of times when I was little and you were always there,
giving your love so tender as nothing can compare.

It's so hard to see you so confused and so unaware,
of where you are or who I am it just seems so unfair.

But I'm sure the Lord is with you and keeps you in his care,
far from pain and suffering his love for you is clear.

QUIET PLACES

At times
I curl up into myself
head low on my chest
arms in my own embrace
my thoughts no longer run to dreams
phantoms of fantasy
or to memories of bygone days
hauntings of the dead

Instead
I steal myself away
to quiet places inside of me
and
in whispers I speak
an unholy litany
to keep th the beasts at bay
as they begin to devour me
my soul and my body

Creativity at its best

More will write

Freer verse

We all came with our own minds
Why be only followers?

But Neopoet is going slow
As it does grow
Older poets are read
Yes
But none know.

If you asked me what is changeless
I would have said nothing
once upon a time,
but clearly, on this morning of sunlight
streaming an early Autumn crispness,
one thing I know for sure,
(the rest of it is pure conjecture)
I know roots that grow love and happiness
never change, they feel the same no matter
the source,
anything else is its moderation and
banishment from the palace of light
within, the font that springs eternal
a well from which we draw.

like a flower;
in the icy winters,
awaiting it’s fall,

like a moon;
hanging overhead,
awaiting the inevitable dawn,

like a ball;
hanging by a thread,
waiting to bounce,

I fall.

Entry One

Went out on the lash with my drinking pals last night,
i found myself at the bottom a whiskey bottle once again 
lost the plot between lip and glass,
stumbled and fell on my arse.

Decided to search for my sobriety in a can of special brew
used to make me see things clearly,
could not see for the clouds within.
lurched and puked again.

to tumble to the end
like a child at play
down a soft grassy glen
on a sunshiny day

hugging the ground
spilling with laughter
ingratiating my bound
to the ditch of hereafter

Have you ever felt the wind rush through your hair,

And did it make you feel like you could go anywhere.

Did the thundering hooves of the horse you mount,

Make your heart race and pound.

Did your face feel cold from the wind rushing by,

Yet you couldn't help but but wonder why.

Why such a powerful creature let you ride,

And how can an animal always be at your side.

The power and confidence I feel when I'm on a horse,

Is so amazing and is like no other force.

At the galloping pace I feel the highest,

Blind folded feeling my way
strange sensations
sharp scratches,
pricking indecision.

Bizarre trepidation
feted remains of consciousness,
shards of terror
severing.

Lifting the veil,
quiescent power,
endowed with uncharted
depths.

Conquer the demons
gnawing at my resolution.
I will prevail.
strike the walls down.