Poetry written for or inspired by my beautiful daughter:

B o u n d e r s 

We are;

desperate birds in morning
bounders under stars
over sandlots
our minds wander too far.

We've been;

in the dirt piles
winter fruit in womb
taken too few raindrops
cautiously to bloom.

We seem;

drunken violets so
wild like minutes tock
miserable and so right
sap of
nature's touch.

We will;

slowly dream of nightshade
dark for dawn
pure and birthed in stained glass
like paintings of
the sun.

We're made;

thicker than the restless
like open clocks
counting down the minutes
hours of the lost.


D u l c e t 

So soft.
The waves, the expression on your face
I hear you calling
you are the dulcet to my ears.

So far.
I wander, oblivious to the shadows
you light reflects on to me
you are the starlight to my eyes.

A kiss.
by sunshine, genteel and honeyed
your sweetness is contagious
you are the the love of my life.

You turn,
cataclysms silent, sirens into whispers
I hear you breathing
you are the dulcet to my ears.


F o r  t h e  K i s s e s

I do it for the kisses, 
I do it for the hugs.

I even do it for the messes
you make upon my rug.

I do it for the hand to hold
and the eyes that gaze so true.

I love being a mommy
and I do it for you.

I do it for your messy hair
when you first wake up.

I do it for the food you pretend to eat
...only to spit up.

I do it for your sleeping face
and the laugh that gets me through.

I love being a mommy
and I do it for you.


S u m m e r' s   S t a n d i n g   S t i l l

Summer's standing still,

a smile on her face.


The quiet is like thunder

when there is nothing left to say.


Weeds might tell the wind,

to whisper and to blow.


So hold tightly to your string

or just give in and let it go.


Summer's hands are empty,

streets stick heavy with the heat.


The Sun lies in the shade

in the valley, behind the trees.


The ground will choke with seeds

as limbs will laugh for joy.


Spreading out their leaves

in the rays to feel the blow.


Storms are looming over,

ready for the chance to quake.


Blue skies will crack open

as white clouds are soaked in gray.


But Summer is quite smitten with

the game that they will play.


Hiding in the little girl

with a smile on her face.


W o o l  g a t h e r e r 

She dreams of fire
and obsidian nights,

Blue cinder eyelashes
and kaleidoscope eyes.

A walk through a stone path

A roll in the mirth's grass

And underneath petals she hides

She flutters softly inside me
like tragedienne wings,

Making all of the cosmos
an insignificant thing.

Her sonants through bluebells,

a mesmerism she stirs well

her stars made of feathers to fly.