Two Leaves

Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.

Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source,
Still, each journey may vary.

Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquillity.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.

At times, all leaves get stuck,
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times the leaves must wait.

Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself,
To gently alter the river’s shape.

Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.

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You can purchase a print of Two Leaves here

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This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

Suffering Without Hope

One day I will wake
To find you hanging
Above a letter

I won’t need to read it
I already know why

You tell me daily

Different words
Same truth

Suffering without hope

I find myself
Silently mourning
A death
That’s yet to happen

Unable to stop
The inevitability
Of your choice
Despite knowing
You are making it

I should do more
But there’s nothing more I can do

Other than wait

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Work Life Balance

Attempting to balance
Work and life
Just seems like another job
I don’t have time
To complete

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This poem is from the book Wage Slave, The Unpaid Overtime Edition

spider

i killed
instinctively
moving before thought
its body crushed under my heel
only in death
could I see
the beauty
of its life

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

release

calm
within the eye
of the storm

joy
vicariously
obtained

warmth
besides
growing fire

clarity
from duty 
beyond self

peace
of a riptide’s
pull

focus
alongside
fear

awe
at primal
efficiency

pleasure
in
pain

release
through acceptance
of death

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Life Is Just A Costume

Impending doom
Looms over the womb
Nothing can exhume
The gloom of the tomb
Life is just a costume
An heirloom
A temporary bloom
Before the darkness consumes

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Irony

Do I think it true
Because it is
Or because I want it to be?

I cannot see
The bonds that blind me
But I know they’re there

Death isn’t tragic
But how death occurs
Most often is

Fantasy
Can only exist
If I’m an active participant

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Impact

When I die
What will be left of me
Beyond these words
And
The impact I have had
On others?

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Forgotten

Eventually
The day will come
When
You are thought of
For the last time

When
All evidence
Of your existence
Has vanished

When
Even your descendants
Have forgotten
Your name

When
Every atom
Of your body
Has been recycled

Then
All that will persist
Of you
Will be the subtle impact
Of your brief touch
Upon the collective consciousness
Of humanity

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Sorry My Boy

Sorry my boy
I’ve got something to do
And unfortunately
It doesn’t involve you

Sorry my boy
I don’t have the time to chat
I’m too busy
But you know that

Sorry my boy
I can’t play right now
There is too much on
I’ve done as much as my schedule will allow

Hey my boy
I’m finally free
Want to hang out
Just you and me?

Sorry my dad
I’ve got too much on
With my work and my mates
My time is all gone

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This poem is from the book Wage Slave, The Unpaid Overtime Edition