I have been writing since I was around twelve years old. Some of my poetic
influences are Ogden Nash,
Edna St. Vincent Millay, Teasdale, Dickinson, Billy Collins and Dorothy
Parker to name a few.
Some of my published credits include North Carolina University's Presses
" Poems Niederngasse, Albany University's "Offcourse Literary Journal",
Temple University's "Schuylkill Creative and
Critical Review", Duke University's "Voices" Journal, San Gabriel Valley
Poetry Quarterly, Muse Apprentice Guild Literary
Magazine, York University's School of Women's Studies Journal, "The
Permanente Journal of the Arts and Medicine",
"Ars Medica, A Journal of Medicine, The Arts, and Humanities-Mount Sinai
Hospital, Toronto Canada" and The Pittsburgh Quarterly.
God Only Knows
(Wilson, Love, Jardine, Johnson)
Maybe it was because my impressionable young mind absorbed their
Smooth-as-bourbon melodies into my virgin cerebellum.
Maybe I subconsciously allowed the intoxication.
What ever the cause, I tasted the sweet nectar and became hooked.
This gift of lyrical redemption, freeing my soul and causing
me to look inward, awaking my center.
Harmonies from a celestial place known only to those who
assume their vocals are prayer, blending chant with echoes
and producing a silky vibration of song mixed with emotion.
Through this euphony, I have found a path to my deepest senses and cleared
the soil from my heart. Surely God has given us this music to connect
to a spiritual artery that flows with blood, grace, sand and surf.
And I shall happily ride the wave...
Our graceful births in early hours, of perfect purity.
Wrapped and cared for in the arms of fall's maturity.
Supple skin, an agile wit. Our dreams are gently planted.
Assuming one-day, when we've grown, our wishes will be granted.
Balmy air and passions flame will generate our thirst.
Fully formed and confident, but easily coerced.
The subtle art of self-restraint, a lesson slowly learned.
And in the heat of summer's day, eventually we're burned.
Cooled tongues display control as autumn's mind evolves.
Our ripened soul's complacency forgives and then absolves.
Colder is the flesh of fall but deeper are the hearts.
The fast approaching bitter chill as life's December starts.
Cherished thoughts accumulate in winter's looming storm.
And though our youth is all but gone, our memories are warm.
Serenity lay just ahead. It waits for us to call.
But first release our mortal ties to summer, spring and fall.
I watched as she searched our jungle for strands of shelter.
Sifting through layers of soiled tin foil and old newspapers, oblivious to
I witnessed her lift pieces of jagged Styrofoam and pull vigorously at
One by one, she carried bits of discarded modern civilization up to her
She slowly began to weave a cosmopolitan bowl of neo materials.
When finished, it resembled a Dali abstract adorned with twigs,
paperclips and insolvent pieces of a lottery ticket.
I sensed the pride she had taken in her art as she gently nudged the
pampered eggs into the belly of her masterpiece. A few weeks later, I
As I sat beneath the tranquil tree gazing upward, I watched as she sweetly
fed her hatchlings a
feast of earthworms and Doritos then tenderly put them to bed. And I
rejoiced in the fact that in
my perception, our human invasion has not altered her life in any way.
A regal shade of burgundy
A richly deepened tone
Located on a crystal base,
A lipoid monarch throne
He stood above his waxen court,
the votives and tea lights
providing warmth and radiance
on sable shadowed nights
The candelabra on the desk
would lend a glow around his form
and ask for no acclaim
Upon your royal pedestal
your pinnacle burned bright.
But down your sides dropped pearled tears
that hardened over night
And day by day as you were lit
to comfort and delight,
you also lost your stature grand
by withering in height
You slowly melted to a stump
until your abdication.
You vaporized into the air,
released from obligation