Lightening shears the darkened skies
exposing faceless demons
whose voices roll and echoes long
express their morbid treason
...
A question forthwith has been rightly posed;
Do I taunt the matriarch English queen?
Am I a dead Captain of pirate prose?
Do I dwell in chivalrous age sixteen?
...
A Pirate and a Poetess
engaged in a heated duel;
the unread pirate using wit,
maddening charm his metric tool.
...
I always found our idiosyncrasies
is what makes us imperfect and human
and superior to the flawed beliefs
in perfect and exacting gods.
...
I laid him down without wreath or flowers
And gave his body as the currents stream;
I said the words to our God the Father
Reuniting his spirit with the sea.
...
At first sight, a gift from the light,
Tenerife peaked in snow
drifting shrouds of virginal clouds
above the island flow.
...
White drifts outline each stalled and frozen wave,
the sun, glinting with unimpassioned eye
contemplating depths of these frigid graves.
Lurking below, life, never to be denied,
...
On these gilded waters caged within my mind
My prayers remonstrate, pleading for a sign;
An unremarkable life is a wretched foe
The shadow of its failure creeping slow,
...
These words I humbly write inspired to describe
a golden-haired goddess with blue Icelandic eyes.
Against these two colors mountainous scenes unfold
upon the farthest ledge these unsung spirit's roam.
...
Containing you in words was that my goal?
Sizing you to fit what space I had to give?
Writing each small part of you
did I lose the whole?
...