A Poem for your Wednesday


God’s Favorite Creation

The God who made the galaxies, the mountains,
The rivers and the oceans
Who shaped the heavens with his fingertips
And breathed air into life

The Lord who crafted the canyons, deep and dark,
Moulded the fields of flowers
To match the birds in the sleepy forests,
Chirping a melody he carefully composed

The Father who spoke this earth into existence
Knew something was missing.

He knew this planet needed one of you, too–
A lanky boy of skin and bone
With dusky brown hair and inky eyes
A gentle heart and a mild disposition.

A boy with oddly red skin and large hands
To pluck guitar strings
Or caress a girl’s chin.

Of all the realms in this vast universe,
With their supernovas, black holes and constellations
You, by far, are my favorite creation.

And surely, God would agree.


A Poem for your Wednesday


Sheets of Rain

The sheets are wet
Sopping, dripping, spreading
Cool against my tired skin.
Enveloped in their clean, fresh scent
I notice the rivulets running down my leg
Bunching at my feet in crisp, clear puddles.

The sheets pour harder now
Steaming, pounding, splashing
Atop my weary head.
But luckily I am not alone
There is a boy entangled with me.
His ochre colored hair damp and dewy
To match his fogged up glasses.

Together we tumble forward
Already sheltered from the rain outside
But still hoping to find protection from the storm within
That threatens to drown us out and never let go,
If only we will let it.IMG_9357.JPG

A Poem For Your Wednesday


You and I both know this place is haunted
You and I both know the ghost is me
Haunting you, haunting myself
Finding a home in other people
Nowhere to rest my head at night
Wandering, waiting, missing
Half asleep, half awake
Caught in between the light and the darkness
Never quite sure which way to go
You see, the conscience in my head is broken
My moral compass no longer points due North
The ghost is my own
My memories of you won’t die
They linger on, reappearing when I least expect them
Ghosts to me

Everyone knowns love is like ghosts
Never really alive, yet unable to die
Sometime I see you in the moonlight
Dancing, laughing, shimmering
No language can convey your spirit
Slipping from my mind before I can grasp it
Unattainable, but more real than anything I’ve every experienced
Can’t you see them? Go on now, just beyond your finger tips
Ghosts to me

Attempting my hand at poetry these days. What did you think?