Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Wednesday, September 30, 2015


Fear whispered in my ears,
like a mosquito feasting on my skin.
It whispered doubts,
 it challenged me into a battle
on the field of life.
I left fear on the sidelines of youth,
and it found me in mid life.
It entered like a burglar
on a dark night,
awakened me in my sleep
and shined a bright light 
in my eyes.
It stood over me
as my heart raced.
Fear climbed the fence
of my garden
and planted seeds
while my back was turned,
like a needle piercing my subconscious.
Fear touched my wounds,
injured my being.
It whispered,
it whispered,
then it roared.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015


You know my heart,
the hallways and corridors.
You walked through touching
the walls,
touching my lust and melancholy,
my addiction and joy.
You know my heart,
how it beats to your touch,
how it dances around your moon.
You have heard the thunder
of my heart,
the rivers of my veins pulsating
as you swam through them,
floating lost in the shadows,
familiar with the fears.
You know my heart,
it beats to your touch,
it climbs to meet you,
it holds you close.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

The angels watched

The church bells rang,
chords were played.
On your lips
and redemption.
Fine nectar must be tasted
and savored.
The angels watched me
even though I rebelled
and traveled roads less desired.
There was truth in chains
that held me down,
excavating my spirit,
making it soar high.
There was you,
you loved me well,
the way I desired.
You learned my secrets
and took possession of my soul.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Humanity II

I wrote a poem
and betrayed my soul
for today I feel dark and alone.
The news saturating our beings,
 drowning us
with sorrow.
The ancient temple destroyed, 
migrants fleeing to Hungary,
children hungry and lost.
Senseless killings,
manhunts and lives coming undone.
My heart aches,
I am ankle deep in the sewer of life. 
Philosophy and love are not the answer,
heroin on the streets is not the answer,
frankly I don't know what is.



Poets write verses about summer
days ending,
fleeting and whimsical.
I am ankle deep with sorrow
and worry.
Humanity is consumed in darkness
and despair,
let the watchman ring the bells,
turn the lights
and bring hope back into our hearts.
Cultivate kindness,
erase hatred,
cultivate tolerance 
annihilate prejudice. 
Restore humanity with love
and let it spread
with understanding and grace.  

This poem is written for where we writing about the watchman. Personally I was having coffee this morning with my husband and I was expressing how sad I feel when I watch the news and  see the condition humanity is in. There is so much that is tragic and senseless and it leaves me feeling despair.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Leonard Cohen

His words are the soundtrack
of the morning,
like a flower opening to light and sun.
Like the wind touching my face,
and my old wounds.
Like the ivy growing on the wall,
like a lover crawling on my skin.
The bird of Paradise plant
is exceptionally brilliant today,
as if his words warmed her too.
I smile with answers to ancient questions,
to finding my way home
following the bread crumbs that he left behind.
My spirituality never questioned
nor displayed,
only my heart shinning like a beacon.

I found Leonard Cohen too late in my life, he is my new obsession. His thoughts resonate with me, his wisdom draws me in. He is an icon and a genius. 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015


When the end comes
it's not announced by trumpets,
nor by red carpet to welcome it.
When the end comes,
it's manifested in deaf ears,
and in sharp words that sting.
Smooth verses
are stored away like
ornaments after Christmas.
Silence gnaws like
acid on metal,
the exterior still shinny and gleaming.
Green fields turn brown
from drought.
Halfway roads are less traveled,
the cold hangs in the air,
even though the sun is shinning.