Poem – My Sweetheart The Artist

Painter of pain, she covers 

my kiss-prepped canvas, 

expressing love 

in sensual hues of blue and black, 

intimate greens, 

wrathful reds, and purples 

left by lust-driven lips. 
She’s my ‘Monet of Misery’, 

prodigy of pleasurable agony.

Performance artist behind closed curtains, 

she turns my body into her oeuvre; 

no audience to behold

each stunning stroke.

Claw mark collages adorn my back.

A pink, six-stitch blemish 

hides snakelike in my left eybrow-

brushed on one night with a gifted left elbow 

in a passionate frenzy of her craft.

The heart-shaped, 

singed spot of skin on my abdomen

an artistic aftermath of candle wax sketches. 
Once in a while 

I wouldn’t mind her being 

a little more like Bob Ross: 

gently stroking, dabbing the canvas, 

creating ‘happy little clouds’. 

Poem – Jagermeister Memories

Some empty Jägermeister bottles sit 

atop my fridge, their labels autographed 

and dated cursively in purple pen. 

She always signed her liquor bottles when 

she finished them, a habit I admit 

was slightly strange at first; I even laughed 
a bit until I heard her reason why: 

they’d last as glass mementos of our wild 

and drunken moments. Now, each label serves 

as glass-sharp slices straight across my nerves, 

reminders of the girl I told goodbye 

when trust and loyalty were both defiled. 
I know I need to throw them all away, 

remove the souvenirs that cause such stress, 

but just can’t bring myself to take them down; 

no, instead I’d rather sit and drown 

in misery, pretend she didn’t play 

a game with me the way she did the rest. 
The truth, at times, is such a sour drink, 

a tough to swallow dose of agony: 

my feelings, like the booze that once had filled 

those empty bottles staring down, were killed 

with each deceitful deed she did. To think 

she ever would’ve gave her heart to me 
was merely pure imprudence on my part. 

Yet even though I’ve realized she’s not 

The One for me, I simply wouldn’t mind 

another night with her and label signed: 

she’s liquor to my alcoholic heart – 

I can’t but help but crave another shot. 

Poem – Imprisoning Images

I am trying so hard to escape. Her image is

my warden, my guard, my cell, and these

cold bars within, that imprison my heart.

Sentenced to life, I shall serve my time

alone amidst an unfathomable future

without her. Forever will I be confined

and punished by the Polaroid’s of my mind –

the snapshots of her long-lost smile.
These are the images I shall never escape. 

Poem – Halloween Clerihews

The Wicked Witch of the West

is feeling very depressed.

The hag soon disappears

as she melts in all her tears.

Alcoholic Frankenstein’s

drunk again on Merlot wine.

No, his walk is not the clue, 

he staggers when he’s sober too! 

Casper the Friendly Ghost

vacationed on the coast.

He tried his best but failed to tan…

cause only the living can.

Hungry Hannibal Lechter

is a keen cuisine collector.

He’ll welcome you into his shanty –

you’ll taste good with Chianti! 

Psychotic Mr. Hyde

is Jekylls’ evil side.

The doctor drank his evil brew

and one man became two.

King Kong combated Godzilla.

The match went to the gorilla.

The reptile ain’t quite the menace

when it comes to playing tennis. 

Poem – Grandma’s Petunias

In Spring I watched my grandma toil: 

with eighty-seven year old hands 

she pertly cupped and clawed away 

the dirt, creating auburn bowls 

in which she placed petunia seeds. 

But summer weeds and pesky moles 

have claimed that emptied patch today – 

a bouquet of petunias stands 

against a stone on sacred soil. 

Poem – Dancing After Yes

Alone and lost amongst the trees, 

the young one stood and wept.

He yearned for home upon his knees, 

in fright as daylight slept.
He knelt in wait, but night remained, 

as roaring clouds rolled in.

The skies became a beast unchained, 

as rain beset his skin.
But in that dark and stormy bind, 

the young one faced his fear.

When he arose in peaceful mind, 

the skies began to clear.
With all the doubt and gloom at bay

the rays of dawn came down.

The sanguine light revealed the way –

A homeward path was found.
A timid boy no longer now, 

he strolled beyond the trees.

Singling loud, he basked in how

he felt the sun and breeze.
His home would welcome him at last –

His goal and greatest need, 

but if he ran the route too fast

he’d miss the sights to see.
So knowing now when things go wrong, 

or if he’s lost his way, 

to face the fears by staying strong – 

Became a man today. 

Poem – Became

Alone and lost amongst the trees, 

the young one stood and wept.

He yearned for home upon his knees, 

in fright as daylight slept.
He knelt in wait, but night remained, 

as roaring clouds rolled in.

The skies became a beast unchained, 

as rain beset his skin.
But in that dark and stormy bind, 

the young one faced his fear.

When he arose in peaceful mind, 

the skies began to clear.
With all the doubt and gloom at bay

the rays of dawn came down.

The sanguine light revealed the way –

A homeward path was found.
A timid boy no longer now, 

he strolled beyond the trees.

Singling loud, he basked in how

he felt the sun and breeze.
His home would welcome him at last –

His goal and greatest need, 

but if he ran the route too fast

he’d miss the sights to see.
So knowing now when things go wrong, 

or if he’s lost his way, 

to face the fears by staying strong – 

Became a man today. 

Poem – Part I

I. Adopting and Adapting 
I brought the handsome animal home, 

sparing him the shelter’s syringe; 

watched the old cat acclimate 

to a place that wasn’t a cage, 

his worry-glossed eyes wide, peeking 

meekly from the open carrier, 

the massive frame of him trembling, 

his nervous nose twitching, 

sniffing the well-worn gray carpet 

while creeping forward into the light – 

curiously, cautiously touring my apartment – 

exploring the rooms of new life. 

Poem – 88 Ways to Say Goodbye

These keys beneath my fingertips 

express my soul through Musics’ lips.

Emotion fuels the solemn songs I play.
With mournful chords of black and white

I grieve the loss of love tonight.

My melodies display my disarray.
You loved it when I played ‘our’ song, 

you’d sit with me and sing along

and at the end we’d always share a kiss.
But now the voice that filled this den

has lost the fight no one can win

so here I play alone and reminisce.
With every key I say goodbye; 

they represent the tears I cried

those months I sat and watched you fade away.
So here upon this bench of mine, 

I play ‘our’ song just one last time

then blow a final kiss my babys’ way. 

Poem – A Dragon and A Hero

Note: This is a two-part acrostic poem.
Death and destruction descends like a storm – 

…creature of legend and mythical form. 

Reaping the lives of the women and men – 

…flames of the winged one scorching their skin. 

Agony, terror and hopelessness reigns – 

…children are crying with fear in their veins. 

Giant and scaly, with hell colored eyes, 

…beast of the ancient rains fire from the skies. 

Only the strongest survive the attack – 

…dreading the day that the creature comes back. 

No man or weapon has challenged the scourge. 

…hope that a hero will someday emerge. 
Hope brings a hero to vanquish a beast. 

Evil had driven its blood thirsty feast. 

Ruthless and epic – the battle campaign. 

Ode to the hero – the dragon is slain. 

Poem – A Once Proud Man Sits Silently

This withered man

 I slowly feed, 

once held the spoon for me. 

What once were strong – 

two working hands – 

now stiff and idle tools. 
The empty eyes, 

where pride once shined 

a shade to shame the sea, 

were waned of light 

a year ago – 

now flameless, shallow pools. 
I spill some soup 

upon the knee 

where bouncing kids once played. 

It’s sad to think 

the spring within – 

has no more rides to grant. 
The lifeless lips, 

where smiles once grew – 

a silent, barren glade. 

I only wish 

he’d speak to me. 

Regretfully…he can’t. 
This once great man sits silently, 

in Winters bitter glaze. 

The tables turned; our roles reversed – 

These cruel and final days.